Way To Kill
by readersdigest
Summary: When hunt and case collide can 2 worlds work together to solve it before it's too late? smart solo Dean Caleb Bobby NCIS Gibbs Abby Tony Kate McGee Ducky friendship HC hurtcomfort angst adventure humour family death demons winchesters pre-S1 SPN
1. Chapter 1

**WAY TO KILL**

_An NCIS/ Supernatural Crossover fic_

**WARNING! WARNING! If you have read this fic prior to 01/01/2010, you may want to go over previous chapters as you may find changes that will be important to you in reading this fic. If you're new to the story, welcome, and I hope you enjoy it!**

Warnings: No romantic relationships will be found in this fic. Plenty of hurt/comfort, friendship, family and team bonding. Contains traces of angst, adventure, mystery and crime. Usual supernatural themes.

Timeline: Pre-series for Supernatural, during the 'Stanford Years' (Sam is away), would fit into season one/two era for NCIS, as Kate is still alive.

The story is mine, the shows are not.

I never have any money, so no one in their right mind would sue me.

Enjoy!

…**PART ONE…**

_Duct tape is like The Force. It has a light side, a dark side and it holds the Universe together. _

* * *

"Bobby...? Yeah man, what's up...? Nah, just finished off... Yeah, messy little bastards... Nah, no problems... Seriously, didn't even need the hospital. You got somethin' for me...? Nah, Dad reckons we'll get more done if we're split up most of the time, so he's off someplace else... Oh come on Bobby, I'm over eighteen. That was one time! ONE time and you guys never let me forget it! Yeah, ok, should be able to handle it fine. You know me... Ha ha ha. Whatever old man... Yeah, I'll let you know when it's done. I promise I'll call, ok? Ok."

Dean hung up the phone and sighed, leaning back onto the motel bed, which, for once, wasn't saggy or stiff, but just firm enough to be comfortable. It was true the last hunt's results didn't require a hospital, but that was really only because Dean hated them and had done his best to patch himself up with his rather extensive med kit. He might have been a passable medic on others, but stitching and wrapping yourself up was always awkward and, when ribs were involved, painful.

It didn't matter how tough you were, or how many broken, cracked or bruised ribs you'd had before (not that he'd really had _that_ many), you might get used to 'em, but they always hurt like a bitch. Arms too high and burning pain, twist a little too much when you walked, bump the brunette waitress as you walk past to your booth in the corner... The list was endless when it came to jarring injured ribs.

Normally a hunt involving a shape shifter was something for someone with a partner, but Dean never did do 'normally' well. Plus, he'd handled one before. Sorta. It ended up dead and Dean figured that counted as a win, even if he was thankful it wasn't too experienced with hunters. Any supernatural creature that had experience with hunters was something to be very wary of.

Three hours of rest after Bobby's call later, Dean was packing the last of his gear carefully into the Impala and slipping the trunk shut with a soft thud. He couldn't imagine having another car, no matter how old this girl got, or how hard she was getting to source for good parts. The Impala had felt like his ever since he first sat in it, before the hunting thing came up, before… well, before. It was home more than anything else ever would be.

Sliding the keys home into the ignition, Dean brought his baby to life with a low, almost sexy rumble of power and cleared the parking lot, turning onto the road and gunning the engine.

**

* * *

**

_NCIS HEADQUARTERS_

Gibbs turned to his team who were currently gathered around his desk in the squad room awaiting details on their newest case. They hadn't had much excitement lately and were itching to get their teeth into something new. Gibbs, however, didn't share their enthusiasm. In his experience, quiet work always meant a storm was coming, which seemed to end up with someone being shot, tied up or drugged, which meant a hell of a lot more paperwork, meaning the need for coffee. Well, more than the usual supply of caffeine.

"Morning Gibbs," Abby greeted cheerfully as she handed him a coffee; a reversal of his normal role of getting her CafPow! Drinks. The chipper Goth then plonked herself on top of his desk, swinging her chunky soled boots in her usual childlike manner.

Accepting the hot beverage with a grateful nod, Gibbs took a gulp of his coffee before returning the greeting; "Morning Abs."

"So, whadda we got?" Tony asked overly cheerfully.

"New Case. Four bodies found so far, all of 'em sharing the same m.o. Latest victim, naval officer by the name of Mary Sabene, claims to have been saved, but refuses to say who," Gibbs said, not needing to look at his copy of the file and passing the others their own copies, complete with crime scene photos.

"Says here the attending l.e.o's failed to get her to describe her attacker

"Boss, why are we getting this case now? I mean the Feds were on it before. Why hand it over to us?" Kate asked curiously, flipping casually through the file.

"Supposedly because the latest 'victim' is a Navy employee," Gibbs said in a tone that made it obvious he thought it was crap.

"Maybe also because the Feds couldn't solve the case?" Tony said, posing his theory half-question, half-statement.

Gibbs nodded. "Something like that but the director made it clear it's now our case, for better or worse. Abby, I want you to run down those symbols—."

"Don't need to," Abby said, interrupting and laying out the photos of each of the symbols in question. "See this one here?" the young forensic scientist asked, pointing to a five pointed star surrounded by a circle. "That's a pentacle, it's used by all sorts of people, though mostly pagans—."

"Witches? You're not saying _witches_ did this, are you?" Kate asked skeptically.

"Don't be silly, Kate. The pentacle has been around for a looong time. It's used for protection. So are the rest of these, from the looks of it. See here? That's the alchemical symbol for silver, and these are runes for protection and strength. If anything, Bossman, I'd say whoever made these didn't want to hurt this lady at all. They wanted to protect her."

Gibbs stared down at the symbols a moment longer before flicking his eyes to the young gothic scientist. He didn't doubt her knowledge in the weird and occult for a moment. "So what, whoever saved this woman thinks there's some _monster_ out there doing this?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh Gibbs, you big cynic, just because you didn't learn it in the marines doesn't mean it's not true. Millions of people all over the world hold belief in the supernatural, from Santa Claus to the Devil to faeries, goblins and angels. Thousands of cultures for hundreds even thousands of years have given tribute to and sought protection against supernatural entities," Abby said in a slightly admonishing tone.

Tony and Kate stared at Abby. "You believe in all that?" Kate asked, eyeing the younger woman.

"Uh, hello, Goth?" Abby said, waving at her black clothes and jewelry, "I might not practice the craft but I don't not believe either."

"Have you ever seen a supernatural entity?" Tony asked, eyebrows raised, a quick grin flashing across his face.

"Well, my aunt once swore she had a ghost in her house, but I didn't see it. I did smell it though," Abby said.

"You _smelt_ it?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Yeah, see, he used to smoke these cigarettes, and every time he'd appear, he'd leave behind this old smokey smell, like the really old cigarettes, y'know? It was kinda cool, even though I was always so disappointed I didn't catch him while he was there" Abby replied, eyes alight with remembered excitement.

"Alright kids, break it up," Gibbs said just as Tony was about to launch into further discussion, choosing to intervene before it got too far. "DiNozzo, with me. We're going to talk to our victim. Kate, get onto the FBI, make sure they've given us everything they've got, and get 'em to send the evidence over to Abby's lab. McGee, go through the victim's files, see if there's anything linking them. FBI apparently tried and got nothing. I want you to check and re-check any leads they had while you're at it, see if they missed something, wouldn't be the first time," Gibbs called as he and Tony headed for the elevators.

**

* * *

**

_RESIDENTIAL HOME, DOWNTOWN SUBURBS_

"I really can't thank you enough, Dean," said the striking middle-aged woman as she fell into a chair, handing a mug of coffee to the young man sitting at her kitchen table.

"Oh letting me hide out here and not giving me over to the cops is thanks enough, Ms. Sabene," said Dean Winchester with a warm smile. Since saving Mary from becoming his latest hunt's next victim, the pair had gotten on like a house on fire, Mary sharing the same fiery nature and sense of humour as Dean.

"I still don't understand why you wouldn't want to go to the police..." Mary started, voice trailing off as the pair turned towards the sound of the door knocking.

"That could be the police again. Mind if I hide?" Dean asked with a grin. Mary had insisted he stay with her while running the case and, against his better judgment, he had given in. It also helped she'd accepted the whole 'evil exists and will rip you to shreds' thing and had actually asked him to help 'evil-proof' her home and car.

That and the woman loved ACDC almost as much as he did.

"Sure," she answered with a grin. "Is my bedroom good enough?"

Dean grinned back. "Well, Miss Sabene, I do declare, that might endanger your maidenly virtue," he drawled back in his best 'southern gentlemen accent'.

"My maidenly virtue was struck off the endangered list years ago young man, now get into that bedroom before whoever's at the door comes bursting in here like some gung-ho savior. Speaking of gung-ho savior...that reminds me of someone," Mary teased as she gently pushed Dean towards the bedroom.

Ducking into her bedroom, Dean slipped the door closed just as Mary opened her front door after washing and putting away the mug Dean had been using. The bedroom was the nearest room and least likely for someone to go into. Why people thought hiding in bathrooms was a good idea was beyond Dean; someone almost always needed to go and they were one of the first places searched.

"Mary Sabene? Special Agents Gibbs, DiNozzo. We're from NCIS. The case has been handed over to us as of now. If you could spare the time, we have a few questions we'd like to ask you?"

**

* * *

**

Roughly forty-five minutes later, Tony and Gibbs exited the Sabene house with nothing more than they had when they first entered, except more questions and, as Abby would say a 'hinky' feeling the woman wasn't being upfront with them.

"Is it just me or did that get us nowhere?" Tony asked as he piled back into the car with Gibbs.

"Nowhere new. She's hiding something," Gibbs answered, gunning the engine with a quick glance back at the house. "We gotta find out what that is."

"Stakeout?"

Gibbs remained silent as he drove, but Tony could see the miniscule expression that flickered over his boss' face as he turned right.

"Yeah! Stakeout!" Tony crowed, pumping his fist excitedly.

He _loved_ stakeouts.

**

* * *

**

_NCIS HEADQUARTERS_

The elevator pinged as the doors slid open with a hiss, revealing Gibbs as he stepped forth into the room.

"Agent Todd!" Gibbs shouted out, walking over.

"Yes Gibbs?" Kate asked, head snapping up from whatever she'd been looking at on her desktop.

"How do you feel about a stake-out?"

Kate groaned quietly. "Sitting in a car for hours on end, staying constantly alert and aware and almost no bathroom breaks. What more could a girl ask for? Kate asked sarcastically. "Who's the subject?" Kate asked quickly, noticing Gibbs' 'look'.

"Mary Sabene." Gibbs said, rifling through his desk.

"I thought she wasn't a person of interest? Why are we watching her?" Kate asked.

"She's hiding something," Gibbs said ambiguously. "I wanna know what."

"O-kay. On it Boss. C'mon, Katie, let's get spyin'!" Tony called, slinging his jacket on, checking his holstered gun and grabbing his sunglasses and keys.

"Tony?" Gibbs called before the younger man made it to the elevator.

"Yeah Boss?"

"Behave yourself," Gibbs instructed as DiNozzo left for the elevator with a roll of his eyes.

**

* * *

**

"Clear," Mary laughed as she burst into her bedroom, finding Dean asleep on her queen size bed, jumping awake when the door opened and Mary came in.

Dean relaxed slightly when he realized there wasn't a threat and sunk back onto the bed for a moment. Mary noticed, frowning a little as she spoke, "You okay, Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean said, holding in a sigh. Truthfully he was still beat from his last hunt, and had added exhaustion to the list with his last stunt on this one. Whatever that thing was, it'd taken him a while to make it back off, while trying to figure out what the hell it was (which he still hadn't discovered).

"So you always look like crap?" Mary asked smugly, knowing Dean was lying.

Changing the subject, Dean addressed his concern. "So those guys, were they cops after all or just some really, really, pushy Tupper-wear ladies cause I hear those chicks can be worse than telemarketers..."

"Neither, they were NCIS," Mary stated, letting the previous topic drop. After all, really, it wasn't her place to mother someone she'd only recently met.

"The Navy Criminal Investigation Service? What the hell do they want with you?" Dean asked.

"Y'know, it could have something to do with me being a Naval Officer, or they could just be really, really bored," Mary quipped back sweetly, a mischievous twinkle present in her eyes.

"Yeah yeah smartass. Either way, I can't stay here now—it's too risky. They come calling again, who knows? And you gotta go back to work tomorrow so no one should be home. That means I shouldn't stay here," Dean said.

The older woman nodded slowly, "Can't say I'm pleased about you shucking out but I know why, at least. Where will you go?"

"Some motel, but I better leave now," Dean said, and left the bedroom to grab his duffel.

Once they were by her front door, Dean turned to the woman and gave her a grin, "Well, it's been swell—."

"You mean apart from the whole creature-of-the-night trying to kill me and consequently finding out things really do go bump in the night part I hope?" Mary asked, returning the grin.

"Well, yeah, apart from that. Man, that thing was whacked," Dean commented.

"You're telling me. I'm just damn glad you came in like a knight to save a damsel. Let me know where you are?" Mary asked hopefully.

"Dunno if that's a wise move, Ms. Sabene. Those guys come calling again, might ask about whoever saved you... You're better off with plausible deniability," Dean pointed out.

Twenty minutes later Dean was cruising around looking for some dive to stay in.

* * *

"Boss? Yeah, some guy just left the Sabene residence and man does he have a sweet ride!" Tony enthused, shortly after a cherry black, '67 Chevy Impala rumbled its way past.

"Huh? Oh yeah, sure, it's Kilo—Alpha—Zulu—2—Yankee—5... Boss? Should I follow him...? Got it Boss," Tony answered as he hung up and pulled his car out onto the road, going in the direction he'd watched the Impala turn.

"You think this guy's her...boyfriend?" Kate asked from the passenger seat as they followed the Impala.

"Maybe, bit of an age gap though, isn't there?" Tony said as he smoothly turned a corner, two cars back from the black beauty that was their subject.

"Not much more than some of your conquests," Kate snorted.

"Harsh," DiNozzo protested. "And they are not 'conquests'."

"Sure. Hey, he's stopping. Pull over."

Sure enough, the Impala cruised to a stop in front of a medium-sized apartment complex.

"Think the guy lives here?"

"Maybe, but doubtful- they're Kansas plates."

"Visiting?"

"Possible."

With that the two agents settled into a somewhat comfortable silence, to wait out their target.

* * *

**NOTES:** Hope you enjoyed the first installment of Way To Kill, feel free to leave a review containing your thoughts and questions.


	2. Chapter 2

**WAY TO KILL**

_An NCIS/ Supernatural Crossover fic_

Warnings: No romantic relationships will be found in this fic. Plenty of hurt/comfort, friendship, family and team bonding. Contains traces of angst, adventure, mystery and crime. Usual supernatural themes.

Timeline: Pre-series for Supernatural, during the 'Stanford Years' (Sam is away), would fit into season one/two era for NCIS, as Kate is still alive.

The story is mine, the shows are not.

I never have any money, so no one in their right mind would sue me.

* * *

**PART TWO**

_You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be misquoted, then used against you._

* * *

DiNozzo jumped slightly when someone tapped on the outside of the glass, his eyes widening when he saw it was the young man they'd been tailing.

Playing it cool, DiNozzo let down the window and asked casually, "Can I help you?"

Dean canted his head to the side as though considering the question carefully. "Well, you could tell me why you've been following me since I left Mary Sabene's house for a start," Dean answered in his 'I'm a nice boy' voice.

Tony's mouth worked one, two, three times—nothing came out. Before Kate got a chance to say anything, Dean continued.

"No, well, maybe you could start that car of yours up and 'take me to your leader'?" Dean asked with a slight smirk on his face. "I mean, you wouldn't follow me without a reason, and I'm bettin' your boss is the reason for the reason. So whadda ya say?"

"Done," Kate replied from the passenger seat after a brief hesitation. Gibbs would almost certainly shoot them down for being made so quickly, but bringing this… young man in would surely help in appeasing his temper.

Dean smiled almost knowingly and nodded, walking back to the Impala with a small smile on his face. If his dad was with him he'd be ripping him a new one for willingly jumping into the investigator's path, but Dean had his own way of doing things when he hunted on his own. He'd learned that a lone young guy on his own actively trying to avoid police attention simply raised him to 'suspect' more often than not. Stepping into the lion's den was one way of circumventing that happening. When they'd already decided to tail him, he figured he didn't really have anything to lose. He could lose a tail as good as the next guy—well, hunter—but only for so long, and he wouldn't get any real work done meanwhile. So it was time to change game plan.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Dean cruised up alongside the dark sedan the agents were driving and pulled his baby to a park. Stepping out, Dean donned his jacket and locked up, waiting til the pair of agents exited their car.

"So, you guys are Navy investigators?" Dean asked, eyeing the man and woman now he could see them standing. _Chick's hot_, he thought to himself.

"We are," the woman answered, sticking her hand out. "Agent Kate Todd, and you are?"

"Dean Winchester."

"Like the rifle?" DiNozzo asked with a grin as he put his own hand out.

"Yeah, man that one never gets old. Who are you?"

"Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," answered the other man as they shook hands, ignoring 'Kate' rolling her eyes at DiNozzo's introduction as they sized each other up. Dean gave a quick laugh at the older man's introduction. _Gotta remember that someday._ _I might like this guy._

"Well, if you two are finished marking your territories, maybe we could go upstairs? Gibbs is waiting," Kate said, turning to Dean. "He's our boss."

Dean grinned. "Never woulda guessed. Lead the way."

* * *

_INSIDE NCIS HEADQUARTERS_

"Boss, this is our sus—I mean, Dean Winchester," Tony introduced as the trio met with Gibbs.

Gibbs shook hands with the young man, introducing himself while taking notice of how Dean scanned the surroundings expertly, eyes flickering as he took in entries and exits, possible weapons and cover. Apart from the fact that when the call came in from Kate saying Winchester wanted a meet and he'd had his name entered in a search of the database and it'd turned up no military or federal record, Gibbs would've sworn the kid had military training.

"Sir," Dean acknowledged as they shook hands. The man had a similar air to his father and the other marines he'd met, but different at the same time, making him want to straighten his shoulders just that little bit more. "You wanna tell me why you were having me followed?" Dean asked as respectfully as he could, uncomfortable in his surroundings.

"You met with a person of interest in our current case," Gibbs stated simply.

"Last time I checked, meeting with someone wasn't against the law" Dean pointed out.

"No, no, I guess not" Gibbs replied thoughtfully.

"You feel like taking a walk?" he asked suddenly. He had to admit, he was curious about the young man. Not many people who'd been tailed would simply ask to meet with a boss.

"Sure," Dean said with a shrug, following Gibbs back to the elevator.

**

* * *

**

Pretty soon the two men had made it outside and were strolling through the lot.

"So," Dean said. "You wanted to talk."

Gibbs regarded the young man beside him. "How do you feel about lunch?"

"I could eat," Dean answered with a non-committal shrug.

"Lunch it is," Gibbs declared motioning to his car, which was parked next to Dean's Impala. "Mine or yours?" he asked, gesturing to the two cars.

Dean paused for a moment. If he went in Gibbs' car, it handed him complete control over their destination, and more importantly left his baby alone in a strange place and made him dependant on the older man. If they took his car, he could, essentially, control where they were going.

"Mine," he answered, pulling out his keys and striding to the driver's side. "Jump in."

Jethro did so, and admired the condition the car had been kept in, taking notice of the box of tapes, each one labeled carefully, some in what looked like feminine script, others decidedly not. He took in the candy wrappers, a couple of empty peanut M & M packets, the duffle bag stashed on the backseat floor, and the first aid kit partially hidden under the seat. The first aid kit was quite large, Gibbs noted, especially for just one person, and possibly could be a clue in to the enigma that was Dean Winchester.

* * *

"So," Gibbs began after they'd settled in. They'd found a nice diner a ways from the NCIS headquarters and had stopped there, ordered lunch and eaten in silence, both men simply enjoying the food before Gibbs settled with a large coffee fronted by both pie and cake the waitress had given them _(cute, late 20s, early 30s maybe, auburn hair)_ with a smile, and started.

One thing he had noticed: Dean could give a horse a run for its money in the eating department. He ate like he'd been starved for a month.

The only real words to come out of Dean's mouth all the while food was in front of him were, "Damn this is good." Other than that, nothing but pleasured groans escaped him. Kid could eat.

"So," Dean echoed before shoveling a mouthful of coffee cake into his mouth followed by a gulp of his coffee _(black, no cream, two sugars, which gave him a Gibbs tick of approval, at least for the coffee, anyway)._

"Why ask to meet me?" Gibbs asked in his practiced, firm-yet-casual manner. The question had been on his mind for a while. If Winchester was their perpetrator it wasn't a smart thing to actively make yourself known to the head investigator on a case. But people did do that. Gibbs had seen it in missing-persons cases he'd worked and seen: the perp joined the search team, often to distract the genuine searchers from where a corpse might be hidden. If that wasn't Dean, he could be the guy who saved Ms. Sabene, but again the question is, _why front up when he'd obviously stayed hidden before? What was he hiding?_

"No point not to meet you. With your guys tailing me, it's not like I could get anything done even if I wanted to, at least not without being watched. Having watchdogs kinda cramps your style with the ladies, y'know," Dean pointed out, continuing to dive into the cake.

"Yeah, yeah, I can imagine," the older agent replied, studying the young man before him. Even when he was seemingly at ease, there was a power, watchfulness to him that only a trained eye could pick up. It was like he was on guard from attack 24/7. The question was why.

"So you what, wanted to tell me to stop having my team following you?" Gibbs asked, eyeing the younger man.

Dean shook his head. "Not so much. If you're gonna have me tailed I want to know why, and I figured goin' to the boss was my best bet. Plus, you wouldn't just ditch a surveillance job just because some 'kid' told you to," he pointed out, emphasizing with his fork. "It's very un-marine."

Gibbs saw that as an opening and took it, "And how would you know what's marine or not?" he asked.

"My Dad. Friends. What can I say? You guys are everywhere," the young man stated nonchalantly. Gibbs made a note to have McGee research Winchester's background in as much detail as possible. Things just didn't match up. One minute the kid acted like he had 20 years combat experience under his belt, the next he seemed identical to any other young man his age—flirty, cocky and a bit of a smartass. He was, on all points, a puzzle. A sarcastic, quick-witted, sharp eyed puzzle, but a puzzle all the same.

One Gibbs was determined to solve.

After the initial questions Gibbs asked—what Dean was doing at Mary's house _('being neighborly if you know what I mean'),_ why he didn't reveal himself when he and Tony came over _(he received a flippant remark about privacy and a really soft bed for that one),_ and lastly what he thought about the recent attacks, especially the one on Mary Sabene, which Dean simply shrugged at, declaring he wasn't a cop, but it looked like 'some crazy was on the loose', Gibbs started in on simply talking to Dean. Despite the cagey answers to some questions, Gibbs determined Dean wasn't involved perpetrator—wise with the case, and, to that level at least, wasn't a threat.

He still didn't quite understand why he reached that conclusion. He found Dean interesting to talk to though—almost like Abby in that way—the way she could disarm his defenses without really trying, how easily she would set up camp in his 'friend zone'. It was, to use Ab's favorite word decidedly 'hinky' how at ease he felt with this strange kid.

The other thing that was hinky was Dean's broad level of knowledge. Like Gibbs himself, Dean wasn't all that partial to certain modern technology unless he had to be, which he thought was odd considering the kid's age, but he let it go. Gibbs learnt that Dean's taste in music was similar to Abby's in that it was rock/metal, but different bands. 'Classics' Dean had declared them.

* * *

Dean had no clue how he ended up talking military stealth tactics with a Special Agent from the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Nevertheless, for the moment, that's what he was doing.

He did admit to himself, though, that he liked talking to Gibbs; it was almost like his father but without the strict Commander-soldier dynamic he'd developed as his father's soldier. Almost like Bobby but without the 'Uncle' part. It wasn't at all like Pastor Jim or Missouri. He hadn't had any lectures on morality yet, and no one had hit him with a spoon—wooden or otherwise.

It was mutual respect.

It was the beginning of friendship.

It was friggin' weird.

Surely he couldn't be friends with an authority figure who was completely unaware of the supernatural side of life?

Could he?

Dean decided at that point to stop bothering himself about. If he kept it up, he'd end up a whiny emo-bitch like Sammy.

Sammy. It still pissed him off _(hurt him)_ how his little brother had left (abandoned) them _(him)._ He still wondered what the hell was his problem _(what had he done wrong?)._

"Dean?"

Gibbs' voice brought him back to earth. Grinning a little sheepishly at the older man, he apologized.

"It's fine. Look, I need to head back to NCIS HQ to check on my team. You mind giving me a lift?" Gibbs asked. He actually kind of hoped he'd be able to convince Dean to come back inside with him. He wanted to introduce him to Abby and maybe Ducky too if he was about. If he didn't know better, he'd think he was considering Dean, an outsider, in for the team. Luckily, he did know better.

"Yeah," Dean said. As soon as they'd dropped some cash on the table, Dean winked at the waitress, and the two men piled back into the Impala.

* * *

Dean drove along the streets at Gibbs' direction and mulled things over. He wasn't one to get too close to people, but he wasn't antisocial either just...casual. And Gibbs was cool. Anyway, it's not like Dean was thinking about telling the marine 'the truth' or anything. He knew better than to bring in outsiders.

Especially when there wasn't any need to. He could handle this case on his own. After all, he'd done it before.

Gibbs confused him though. As a person he was strict in that marine discipline way but from what little Dean had seen of the interaction between Gibbs and his team, he actually gave a damn about them. They were like some dysfunctional family. He liked the idea of that. It reminded him of Dad, Sammy, and him before Sam left for Stanford and everything fell apart.

He hadn't found out too much about the case, though, when he started reviewing their conversations in the diner. Except that really, they had bubkis. Granted the case had not been in their jurisdiction very long, but the Feds before them hadn't had anything either. Only the F.B.I profiler offered that a 'disturbed individual, likely a white male anywhere from early twenties to mid-thirties with a middle class education', was the most likely suspect.

Which was great, cause, y'know, there were hardly any guys matching _that_ description.

As Dean was navigating the streets, Gibbs' cell phone went off. Answering it, Abby's voice came clear across.

"I've got those blood results and the analysis of the rest of the evidence for you Gibbs," Abby's voice announced.

"Good work Abby. We'll be right there."

"You owe me big for this Gibbs, I rushed it."

Gibbs smiled softly, "Caf-Pow it is," he replied and hung up.

Twenty minutes later and Gibbs thrust a huge Styrofoam cup at Dean, briskly ordering the younger man to follow him. Dean glared a little at the man's back before shrugging and striding behind him to catch up.

The two men took the elevator to Abby's lab where they found the young forensic technician and Ducky.

"Oh Jethro, I haven't seen you today, how are you? And who's this young man with you?" the doctor asked congenially.

"Ducky, Abs, this is Dean Winchester," Gibbs offered by way of introduction.

"Hi," Abby said perkily, grabbing the drink off Dean and taking a huge slurp.

Dean just looked at Abby, eyeing the clothes and jewelry. "You're a Goth?" he asked warily. Granted, most people looked at Abby oddly when they met her, but Dean was eyeing her like she was going to cause all kinds of hell.

Abby grinned. "That obvious, huh? Don't worry, I won't bite," she confided in a stage whisper.

"That's not what I'm worried about," Dean muttered, his grumbling going unheard by the trio, already discussing whatever it is Gibbs' phone call concerned.

* * *

**NOTES: **As usual, thoughts and questions are welcomed. If you pick up any spelling/grammar mistakes, feel free to pop them in as well. Hope you're enjoying the story!


	3. Chapter 3

**WAY TO KILL**

_An NCIS/ Supernatural Crossover fic_

Warnings: No romantic relationships will be found in this fic. Plenty of hurt/comfort, friendship, family and team bonding. Contains traces of angst, adventure, mystery and crime. Usual supernatural themes.

Timeline: Pre-series for Supernatural, during the 'Stanford Years' (Sam is away), would fit into season one/two era for NCIS, as Kate is still alive.

The story is mine, the shows are not.

I never have any money, so no one in their right mind would sue me.

* * *

**PART THREE…**

_Join the military, visit unusual and exotic locations, meet strange people, and then kill them._

**

* * *

**

Somehow Gibbs had Jedi mind-tricked him here, Dean was sure of it. Here were the offices of Gibbs' team, and it seemed all of them were lined up watching him like he was some freaky ass animal on show. That, or someone's new pet.

Either way, it was starting to piss him off.

Just as Dean was about to voice his ... distaste, Gibbs re-entered the room carrying several manila folders, tagged in red and black ink, plonking them down onto a desk before leaning against it.

"I bet you're wondering why I asked you to stay," Gibbs stated, eyeing Dean.

He'd thought it over through his conversation with Abby and Ducky about the results that'd come in, all the way up the elevator, down the hall and back here and still didn't get what he was about to do. Not that bending rules was entirely new to him, but he was pretty sure bringing in someone who could very likely be classed as a possible suspect was. He'd gone over in his mind all the details they had on the case, both theirs and the Fed's, but couldn't knock the feeling that Winchester was going to be the turning point, that with him, they had a chance at solving a case that had puzzled the best agents from the FBI in the Washington area and left them at a dead end.

The surly young man grunted in response.

"I want you to help us out on this case," Jethro stated plainly, stalling the protests from Kate, Tony and even McGee with a raised hand. "Listen to me first," he instructed.

"Gibbs, are you serious? He's a civilian," Kate burst out, unable to keep from voicing her objections.

"Give me a moment to explain, Kate. First, I have a few questions for you, Dean."

Dean's eyes met Gibbs and held them. "Like what?" he hedged.

"These are some of your work from the Sabene residence", the agent stated, watching the young man carefully as he placed the photographs of the symbols found at the Sabene residence.

Remaining impassive and cool headed, Dean stated, "That's a statement, not a question."

"Yeah, yeah it is. I'll ask then. Are you the person who helped Mary Sabene?"

Huh. Damned both ways. "What if I am?" he asked, knowing that that was as good as admitting he was.

"Then I'll put my offer to you. I want your help. I'm willing to hire you as an outside consultant on this case."

"Why? What's the catch?" Dean asked slowly.

As hesitant as he was in getting further involved with the NCIS agents, he knew it would be ten times harder to work the case without their help. And if he was reading Agent Gibbs right, the man might just be willing to believe the truth. His mind turned over all the possibilities having a federal contact would make. It was a daunting but exciting thought. Being paid, _paid,_ for a hunting gig.

"I want you available at all hours. I'd like you to stay with one of us at all times so if we're questioned about your presence or involvement your innocence won't be in doubt. I want you, temporarily, to operate as a full member of our team." Gibbs stated, silently hoping this move wasn't about to backfire on him.

It seemed like Dean was about to protest when Tony spoke up.

"Boss, are you sure?" Tony asked, watching the two of them. "I mean, he has no federal record, which means no training-."

"We'll see about all that, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, watching his team. "What'll it take for you to decide?"

"Seriously?" Tony and Dean asked at the same time.

"Seriously," Gibbs repeated.

"He needs to know how to shoot," Kate said suddenly.

"Geez woman, always with the guns?" Tony quipped, smirking at the raised eyebrow Kate gave him. Yeah, he was gonna pay for that later, he could practically feel his arm throbbing already. That's what made it fun to tease her. It was like having a little sister. A very annoying, bossy, smart mouth little sister with a gun.

"You don't think I can handle a gun?" Dean said with a smirk, watching the interaction between the two agents. "You guys use Sig's, right?"

Tony nodded, "Yeah."

"I don't."

"See-."

"But I do have a Desert Eagle, if that'll do," Dean told them.

Kate turned her attention from Gibbs to Dean. "What?"

"A Desert Eagle, will that do?" Dean repeated as though he was talking to a slow child.

"Alright kids, break it up. We can sort that out at the range, you'd have to anyway to be granted permission to use a firearm, anything else?" Gibbs asked.

"Hand to hand combat?" Tony offered, kind of impressed with the kid for the way he handled Kate.

"Done," Dean agreed easily. "Next?" he asked.

The elevator dinged, revealing Abby and Ducky, who caught the tail end of Dean's words.

"What's next?" Abby asked happily, greeting Kate, Tony, McGee and Gibbs with a smile.

"Yes, do tell us what's got everyone all excited," Ducky asked noting the keen looks on everyone's faces before looking to Gibbs.

"Gibbs wants the kid here on the team and now we get to make up a list of what he has to do to prove he can work," Tony stated, grinning at the way Dean seemed to bristle at being called a kid.

"Jethro, are you sure?" Ducky asked, curious, but not objective. He knew firsthand how uncanny Gibbs's intuition was. It was practically infallible.

"Yeah, Duck, I'm sure."

"Is he the one who drew those symbols?" Abby asked.

Gibbs looked to Dean who shrugged. "Yeah," he answered cautiously.

"Well then I say he should have a quiz from me, too," Abby said.

"A quiz?" Tony, Dean and Gibbs asked.

Abby grinned. "Yeah, to prove he was that guy. I mean, he could just be saying it but-."

"Why would I bother even doing that? And, also, who'd make up the questions?" Dean asked. He had to admit the idea was good. Some of the symbols he'd used were pretty rare, meanings obscured by poor translations over the years. If it helped him get the job done, fine.

"Me," the forensic technician stated firmly.

"You," Dean repeated. She raised an eyebrow at him. Raising a curious eyebrow at the young woman himself, he turned to the rest of the group. "Anything else? Want me to jump through some flaming hoops for you too?" he wisecracked.

"Nah," Tony dismissed with a grin, "But give me a ride in that car and you got my vote."

Dean grinned. "Man, you gotta earn a ride in my baby. So, shooting range?"

* * *

"So, how do you wanna do this?" Dean asked once they'd settled into the shooting range, protective gear at the ready, targets set.

Gibbs considered the question for a moment.

* * *

Gibbs had expected Dean to be able to shoot, but he hadn't expected that he'd be easily as good a shot as he was, maybe even better. Not that he'd say that aloud.

There was no hesitation. No sizing up of targets. Just swing up the gun. Shoot like some action hero, and manage to pull off precise shots every time. Tight groupings, fast reloads, excellent aim at both still and moving targets.

Tony shook his head. The kid shot like he'd had weapons training since he was able to hold a gun straight. He'd seen life shooters during his time with the police, kids who'd grown up in gangs but this excelled the kind of amateur level even the best of them achieved, this was scarily professional.

"Damn, man, that was awesome. Boss, you see that?" Tony exclaimed after Dean's fired off his last rounds and the targets brought in. Smartass had shot a smiley face in the last target.

Gibbs was looking at Dean thoughtfully, "Where'd you learn to shoot, Winchester?"

Dean shrugged as he checked his weapon before sliding it away from prying eyes. "My dad, target practice-tin cans on a fence post, sometimes a range if there was a good one nearby. Sometimes he set up boards with bullseye's on 'em, tie 'em onto a branch with rope. Moving targets." He answered easily, losing a little of the harsh edge he'd had ever since he'd first met him. Seemed target practice, the ease of shooting and reloading had relaxed him some. He knew that feeling.

"So, we gonna do hand-to-hand now?" Dean asked after a few moments of silence.

Gibbs shook his head. "No, you and I are meeting Abby for dinner."

Tony perked up at the mention of food. "Can I come, Boss?" he asked, eyes eager. He was kinda hoping that they'd take Dean's sweet ride.

Dean grinned. "You just wanna get in my baby," he quipped. He froze. "Okay, that sounded oddly sexual."

Gibbs shook his head, smiling ruefully as they made it out to the parking lot where Kate and Dean's cars were lined up next to each other. On the ride to the range, Tony had gone with Kate, but she'd mentioned she had plans for the evening and couldn't join them so he was just itching to get into the classic muscle car.

"Sure, DiNozzo," Gibbs answered as the approached the cars, bidding Kate goodnight, though not without some of Tony's teasing.

"Yes!" the younger agent exclaimed, excitement shining in his face.

Dean grinned at Tony's childlike expression. "You wanna ride shotgun?" he offered, glancing to Gibbs with a half-apology, because letting Tony upfront meant he'd be in the back and getting a shrug and a slight grin in reply.

"Seriously? Man, this rocks," DiNozzo enthused, jumping into the passenger side.

"Where to?" Dean asked once he'd gunned the engine and slid in his Kansas tape, turning it down a little from his usual ear-shattering volume to hear Gibbs' directions.

Dean pressed down on the gas with a sigh and a shake of his head.

This was so friggin' weird.

* * *

Dean followed Gibbs' directions until they found a little out-of-the-way restaurant where Abby was waiting at a table.

"Over here Gibbs!" the young woman called, a grin lighting up her face. The three men made their way over to the table Abby was guarding and sat down at the table, Gibbs and Dean on opposite sides of Abby, Tony in between Gibbs and Dean.

"I already ordered for you guys 'cause the waiter was kinda getting impatient," Abby informed the trio, at which she received identical dubious looks. "Oh relax, I got you guys the deluxe hamburger deal," she said, answering their glance with a roll of the eyes. "Seriously, it's not like I ordered you all tofu burgers or something."

Relaxing slightly, Dean took in his surroundings again. He'd noted as they walked in that their table was close enough to both the main entrance and the kitchen exit. In fact, if he twisted in his seat a little, he could just see into the kitchen itself, where the cooks were bustling around, preparing meals in various stages of construction. It was a good place to sit.

Gibbs watched Dean as the younger man took careful notice of his surroundings. He looks tired, Gibbs thought to himself as he watched Dean. Actually, strike that, he looks like he's exhausted, he thought, correcting himself. Thinking back, he realized that Dean had in fact lagged a little after the shooting range, even when he'd taken the kid to lunch he'd looked tired, worn, but Gibbs had let that slide, too focused on specifics to actually take the time to look at him.

"If some random person came up to you on the street and asked you what a ghost was, what would you say?" Abby asked, folding her arms and leaning forward toward Dean.

"I'd tell him there's no such thing as ghosts, turn around, and walk the other direction down the street."

"Well how is she supposed to get anything out of you if you act like that?" Tony asked, his eyes narrowed at Dean. Dean didn't reply though, and Tony realized he was smiling slightly. Looking to Abby, he noticed she was smiling slightly too. "I'm missing something," Tony muttered.

"Alright," Abby murmured. "Dean, what is a ghost?"

Dean paused, thinking about the question seriously, which surprised Tony, since he'd just snapped off an obnoxious answer to the last question.

"Usually, anything weird happens people can't explain, they say a ghost or poltergeist did it. Fact is, they're pretty much the same thing. A spirit is more commonly associated with apparitions and trying to get a message across or get something accomplished, while a poltergeist just wants to wreak havoc, throwing dishes, picture frames, whatever. Mostly, they barely, if ever remember anything of what, who they were after a while. "

With Dean's attention having been taken by Abby's questions, Gibbs observed him. He was leaning a tad to one side, one arm almost too casually curving around his torso, almost protectively. Gibbs also noticed his breathing was regular enough to be taken as normal, but more shallow. He wasn't sitting as straight as when they first sat down either, more hunched. Logging all these details for the first time that day, Gibbs added them together. He felt so stupid for not noticing earlier.

"If you were trapped in a house with something, just you and it, no cell phone, and you didn't know what it was, what is one thing you would want to have?"

"Salt," he replied.

"Why?" she asked.

"Salt is one of the best blanket weapons. It can repel spirits and, if you could give me some lighter fluid and a lighter and the thing's remains, it'll destroy the thing. Salt has been used as a spirit deterrent for centuries. Sit in a circle of salt; spirits and some demons can't get in. I'll pack rock salt into our- my shotgun and fire them at spirits, get them to dissipate and keep them at arm's length for a while. I mean, there are exceptions in every case, but in general, salt would be the best choice."

* * *

One sign Gibbs could pass off, but put all of them together and it was unmistakable. The kid was hurt. How bad, he wasn't sure, but judging by the thin sheen of sweat on his brow, it wasn't doing him any good to be up this long. Briefly he wondered why Dean hadn't said anything before. _He doesn't trust us not to take advantage of him_, he realized. He refuses to let his guard down. It was then Gibbs made the decision he wasn't going to let Dean stay at a motel. He figured he could use the excuse that he had to keep an eye on him at all times to sway the younger man into staying with him, maybe Tony if he wasn't willing to bunk with himself. Obviously earlier in the day he must've taken something for the pain, but he'd been with one of them constantly since- no chance. Damn it.

About fifteen minutes of occult terminology he didn't understand later, Gibbs tuned back into the conversation at Abby's conclusive declaration, "Well, Gibbs, I'd say he's our guy."

"What?"

"I said, he's our guy. I mean, not everyone has that kind of detailed knowledge on the occult. In fact, most of those questions I had to research to find," she answered, smiling at Dean. She'd enjoyed talking to him about everything, even after she'd finished with the questions she'd chosen. He was funny and smart, a real charmer, kinda like Tony, she thought to herself. He was cool.

"Right, well that's...good," Gibbs answered, trying to figure out how to approach his issue.

* * *

**NOTES: **Comments, thoughts, always welcome and inspiring. If anyone can guess where the title (Way To Kill) comes from, there's a oneshot in it for you. Leave your answer via PM or in a review. First one who gets it right gets to suggest a oneshot they want.


	4. Chapter 4

WAY TO KILL

_An NCIS/ Supernatural Crossover fic_

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Warnings: No romantic relationships will be found in this fic. Plenty of hurt/comfort, friendship, family and team bonding. Contains traces of angst, adventure, mystery and crime. Usual supernatural themes.

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Timeline: Pre-series for Supernatural, during the 'Stanford Years' (Sam is away), would fit into season one/two era for NCIS, as Kate is still alive.

The story is mine, the shows are not.

I never have any money, so no one in their right mind would sue me.

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PART FOUR

_Despite the cost of living, have you noticed how it remains so popular?_

* * *

"So, Dean, where you stayin'? Not those apartments, right?" Tony asked with a grin.

"Nah," Dean replied with an answering smile, "Probably just find a motel and crash. Actually, I should get going, y'know check-in time and all. What time d'you want me to meet you tomorrow?" the young hunter asked Gibbs, trying to sound casual. Truth be told, he felt like crap. His ribs and back ached and his head was pounding out some staccato beat at full blast, not to mention he had a sneaking suspicion he was getting sick, he'd been trying not to shiver all through dinner in the air conditioning. He just wanted to find some dive and crash.

"Actually, Winchester, it'd be better if you stayed with one of us while you're on the team," Gibbs started, waving away the young man's protests. "No, really, remember what I said about having to be with one of us at all times? I can't guarantee you wouldn't be a suspect if I don't know where you are," he said firmly in his 'I'm the damn boss, now shut up and do as I say' voice.

Dean was about to protest when Gibbs spoke again. "I have a spare room at my place, and room for your car," he added, trying to play on the kid's affection for his machine.

"Do I get a real choice in this?" Dean asked as a final bid for freedom.

Gibbs grinned mentally, victorious, but he kept his face stern and serious, answering, "No."

And that was that.

Dean shook his head slightly, "I'm doomed."

* * *

Finally Dean pulled up to Gibbs' house. The drive to Gibbs' house saw his headache and the pain in his ribs and back spread to an amplified ache all over his body, and he couldn't hold the shivers back anymore.

_Have to keep going, all I have to do is get into the house, and crash in his spare room_, Dean thought to himself as he prepared to climb out of the car. It didn't help any his eyes were about as blurry as they were when he'd gotten blind drunk in that park in Milwaukee when he was eighteen. He felt about as stable as then too.

* * *

Gibbs had carefully watched Dean out of the corner of his eyes all the way to his place. A few times he'd been tempted to call the young man on his increasingly obvious exhaustion and pain but was concerned if he did, Dean would simply outright refuse to stay with him, something he didn't want to happen, and not just because of the manpower it would take to set up watch on him at a motel.

So he'd kept his mouth shut but mentally sighed in relief when they finally made it home. The kid looked beat, and he was shivering more than ever. Gibbs was starting to wonder if he'd even make it in the house.

He climbed out of the car, and walked around the trunk to Dean's side, noting he still hadn't gotten out. Waiting, he watched, as Dean seemed to steel himself before pushing the door out, holding onto the frame for support whilst trying to look like he wasn't doing just that. Damn kid sure was stubborn.

Dean finally made it upright and out of the car but as he went to step towards the back for his duffel, his knees buckled, betraying him, and he swayed, falling.

* * *

Gibbs stepped forward, managing to just catch Dean before he face planted into the ground, "Whoa there, easy," Gibbs murmured as he lowered Dean more gently to the ground, concern spiking at the heat he felt coming off the boy in waves. This has to be something recent, Gibbs thought as he checked the semi-conscious man over, but it couldn't have been from the Sabene incident, he thought, it has to be something else.

Dean felt the world spin and grey out as he tumbled to the ground, barely noticing the special agent's strong grip on his arms and torso, simply trying to concentrate on staying awake and not throw up or pass out.

"Winchester? Dean? Can you hear me? I need to get you inside okay? But I need your permission to help you," Gibbs said slowly but firmly. He didn't want to do anything to complicate matters further, and he knew letting Dean decide he needed and even accept help would be for the best.

"Is it okay to help you?" Gibbs asked again, eyeing the young man for a response. He had to get him up off the cold concrete.

_Help? Why do I need help?_ Dean thought in his muted world, _am I sick? I'm sick. Huh. No, wait, I can't be. Can I?_ "Mmh," he answered, hoping it came out sounding better, stronger than the muffled, weak response he'd heard.

"I'll take that as a yes," Gibbs answered, a rueful grin on his face, getting a better grip on the younger man as he hauled him to his unsteady feet. "Come on, soldier, up and at 'em," Gibbs muttered, basically hauling Dean into the house and onto his couch.

Eventually Gibbs had settled the younger man onto the couch, taking off the steel-capped boots and the leather jacket while Dean mumbled about it 'being too soon, Lucy' and how he wanted to 'go slow'.

Gibbs sighed, half in amusement, half in worry, returning from the bathroom with his rather extensive first aid kit. Rummaging around, he brought out the thermometer and unceremoniously stuck it into Dean's mouth, receiving a mumbled protest _(or at least, that's what he told himself it was) _in return.

102.1 Not really hospital worthy, at least not quite yet, but certainly not good either. Grabbing a glass from the kitchen, Gibbs filled it with water from the cooler and brought it out, sitting it on the coffee table next to the couch along with some pain meds for when Dean woke up enough to take them.

Picking up his phone, he dialed Tony, who'd caught a cab from the restaurant. After only three rings, he answered, "Yeah Boss?"

"DiNozzo, Dean's sick," Gibbs stated without preamble.

"What d'you need, Boss?" Tony asked, no hesitation in his voice. He'd wondered if he should've offered to help Gibbs out with Dean.

"I need you to come over here. I have some things that need checking out but I can't leave him alone. How soon can you get here?"

"Legally or not so legally?"

"How soon, Tony?"

"Be there in twenty," Tony answered, hanging up on his way out the door, pausing only to grab his jacket and keys, thankful he'd not gone to work in his car that morning. _This should be a fun night,_ Tony thought as he headed towards Gibbs' place. _Hope the kid's okay._

* * *

Exactly twenty minutes later Tony pulled up at Gibbs' place, and was walking up the driveway when his Boss came out the door. "He's inside on the couch. He woke up long enough to down some pain meds but other than that he's just been asleep."

"When'd he go down?" Tony asked. He needed to know in case he ended up having to take the kid to the hospital.

"Managed to drive all the way here, but that seemed to take everything he had. Went to get out and walk, he just dropped. Damn kid's stubborn, that's for sure," Gibbs answered, pulling out his keys and piling into his car. "Take care of him Tony."

"Will do, Boss," Tony answered. He hadn't initially understood how Gibbs had come to seemingly bond with this punk kid so quickly throughout the day but after he'd talked to Dean he'd figured it out. He was so similar to Gibbs in so many ways, but different, too. Unlike Gibbs he got it when Tony quoted movies, but like Gibbs and even himself he didn't show much patience with technology.

Over dinner Tony had started seeing him the way Gibbs had. He wasn't gonna let him down now.

Waving to Gibbs, Tony walked into the house and crossed into the living room. Dean's jacket had been tossed haphazardly onto one of the lounge chairs, the Impala's keys on the coffee table beside a half-empty glass of water and what must be his boots were next to the couch.

Dean himself was laid out along the couch, a colorful Afghan draped over his torso and legs, looking odd against the tough guy clothes.

What had been a thin sheen of sweat was now considerably more, and Dean shivered sporadically under the Afghan, eyes fluttering, and face pale.

_Man, he looks so much worse,_ Tony thought as he looked at the younger man. From his file, Tony knew Dean was several years his junior but the look in his eyes spoke of someone much, much older. _Gibbs never mentioned he'd checked him for any other injuries,_ Tony thought. Squatting down beside the couch, Tony lifted the Afghan before pulling up Dean's shirt. Underneath was a startling array of bruises in various stages, from sunset purples and blues, to deeper colors to fading bruises. _Must be older ones_, Tony mused. Looking more closely, Tony noticed criss-crossing scars, some longer than others, some more recent, others that spoke of bad but old wounds, now faded.

"Jesus," Tony whispered as he continued to inspect Dean. He looks like he's been through a war.

Reaching up to feel along his ribs, Tony gently prodded the worst looking area, trying to size up if they could be broken or were just badly banged up. The move elicited a startled gasp from the younger man, followed by a long moan.

"Probably broken then," Tony muttered quietly to himself, still shocked by the array of injuries, new and old that littered Dean's torso. If this is what his chest looks like, what about the rest of him? Tony thought. He'd been a detective in homicide and had seen scarred up bodies, on gangsters and mobsters alike, regular professional 'tough guys', but none like this. This was a catalogue of a life of, well, war. Some of the scars Tony had seen looked like they could have been from animal attacks.

Absently, he wondered if Gibbs had this many scars. He had several of his own, but nothing like that.

Wandering into the kitchen, Tony made himself a coffee before grabbing some cookies off the counter and settling down into one of the extra comfy lounge chairs to wait.

* * *

Gibbs pulled out of the drive, secure in the knowledge that should Dean need it, help, in the form of Tony, was available. He trusted Tony about as much as he trusted anyone, as much as he trusted Ducky and Abby, and he'd seen the way Tony had quickly warmed to the younger man.

Focusing his mind on the task at hand, Gibbs took the quickest route he'd found while waiting for Tony to the Sabene house. He needed answers and he needed them now and with Dean...indisposed, Mary Sabene was his only hope for fast answers.

* * *

Half an hour later Tony was beginning to wonder if waiting until Dean woke up to patch him up and check him out further was such a good idea. Those ribs looked like they'd at least sort of been taped at one stage, but that they'd been undone sometime during the day. _Probably when he went to the bathroom before the shooting range_, Tony surmised, _they would've hindered his shooting otherwise_. _Good thing we didn't do hand-to-hand at least. Who knows what would've happened then?_

Just as Tony was debating the issue with himself, the young man on the couch began to stir. Crouching beside Dean, Tony whispered and murmured as he woke, attempting to reassure him in a rather stilted manner.

"Easy man, you're at Gibbs' place, remember?" Tony said in greeting after Dean had managed to focus on his face.

"Gibbs?" Dean rasped. If he was at the older marine's house, why was Tony there?

"He had to step out, so I came. Listen, we need to wrap those ribs. I'm no expert, but I think I can do it if you help me. Can you sit up?" Tony asked. From what little he'd seen the ribs appeared to be the worst of it; the rest had been bumps, bruises and scrapes, but nothing too bad, considering.

Dean nodded slightly and then regretted it, his headache reappearing in full force, making him wince.

"Bad headache, huh?" Tony sympathized. He knew full well what exhaustion and injury could do. He wasn't an expert at garnering Gibbs' anger after being hurt for nothing, after all.

"Mmm," Dean answered, sitting up with Tony's help.

Slowly Tony used the materials he'd found in Gibbs' first aid kit and wrapped, with Dean's help and instruction, the younger man's ribs, surreptitiously checking him for other injuries he hadn't been able to see from the prone position Dean had been in on the couch, relieved when he didn't find anything more worrying than some shallow gashes that looked like they came from glass. After finishing up with the ribs, Tony insisted on tending to the other cuts and bruises, applying antiseptic and patching Dean up, much to the other man's obvious discomfort, made more apparent by his, well, bitching.

Apparently, the more alert Dean became, the more his 'smartass' kicked in.

"Seriously man, you wanna feel me up, you're gonna have to do better than just dinner. I mean, really, you could've at least sprung for a movie. That new Brad Pitt chick flick looks good," Dean said. He'd managed to get a hold on his pain, masking it over with his usual sarcasm.

"Would you shut up?" Tony grumbled. "I seriously think I liked you better comatose." For a moment, Tony wondered if he'd overstepped a line, being so informal, but it felt right. It was so easy to be just friends with the kid. Thankfully, Dean didn't seem to mind, not missing a beat.

"I wasn't comatose, asshole. And I wasn't the one who was woken up by someone's inability to sit still and be quiet. I mean when someone's hurt you don't-."

"Hurt? Now you admit you're hurt? Thirty seconds ago it was, 'Get off me, bitch, I'm fine,' and now it's, 'Oh I'm hurt'?"

Silence reigned for about fifteen seconds before Dean shrugged, regretted the move and said, "Whatever man, can I get up now? I'd kill for some coffee. Or, y'know, a beer," he added hopefully.

Tony eyed him a moment before shaking his head, "Uh uh - no way am I giving you beer. You still want it when Boss gets back, you ask him. No way am I letting you mix pain meds and alcohol," Tony said sternly. "Speaking of, take this." He handed Dean a pill.

"Fine," Dean huffed before downing the pill dry. "Can I at least have some damn coffee?" he asked. While Tony had been wrapping his ribs he'd resigned himself to staying here, at least for the night, justifying the move with the fact it was too late to check in anywhere anyway, despite the fact he could've found some dingy chain motel. They always seemed to have 24 hour check-ins.

Tony grinned. He liked the kid's spunk. "Coffee I can do," he said. "Cream and sugar?"

"Real coffee," Dean replied, managing to gingerly seat himself at the kitchen table, conscious of his aching side and back, watching Tony as the older man rummaged around for mugs and spoons and coffee.

Tony finished making the coffee, grabbing another mug for himself before sitting down at the table opposite Dean, passing him the steaming cup.

"Mmm, thanks," Dean managed after the first scalding gulp.

"No problem," Tony replied, and then asked a question that had been bugging him since before dinner that night, "What'd you do to convince Gibbs?"

Dean looked up, confusion written all over his face. "Huh?"

"Well, I mean, he's not exactly Mr. Warm-and-Fuzzy. You're not even a day into knowing him and you've got him vouching for you to the director, getting you a job, even if it is just consulting on the case and letting you into his house, though that could just be the whole fainting in his driveway thing," Tony said, unable to resist the dig.

"Dude, I so did not faint. Girls faint-guys pass out."

"Whatever gets you to sleep at night," Tony said, shrugging nonchalantly.

Dean ignored him in favor of voicing his thoughts. "So where is Gibbs?"

Tony shrugged, "He never actually said where he was going, just said he had something to do."

"Huh."

Dean took another long drink of his coffee before putting the mug down on the counter, holding it between his two hands, absorbing its warmth. "Weird shit..." he grumbled.

"What's weird shit?" Tony asked.

Dean looked up, surprised, as if he hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud. "Nah, 'ts...ahhh...the goblins. Pains in the ass, man," he told him firmly, enunciating each word. "Like a rock band...just going at it in your skull." At that, he made a half-ass attempt to bang his fist on his skull a few times.

"Goblins," Tony repeated, trying to catch the nouns in the sentence and put together something that vaguely resembled sense. He hid the smile that started to emerge as he realized Dean was getting pretty high up there.

"These little things that think it's their Goddamn job to harass people and destroy shit. And difficult as hell to kill. Sneaky little bastards" Dean muttered, eyes flashing, "They even stole my goddamned engraved silver knife!"

At that declaration, Dean swung his arm and inadvertently flew his coffee mug off the edge. He made a half-ass attempt to grab it before it fell to the floor with a crash.

Dean stared at it sadly for a moment before saying, quite irritated, "Shit."

* * *

A/N: Reviews are love


	5. Chapter 5

**WAY TO KILL**

_An NCIS/ Supernatural Crossover fic_

**WARNING! WARNING! If you have read this fic prior to 01/01/2010, you may want to go over previous chapters as you may find changes that will be important to you in reading this fic. If you're new to the story, welcome, and I hope you enjoy it!**

Warnings: No romantic relationships will be found in this fic. Plenty of hurt/comfort, friendship, family and team bonding. Contains traces of angst, adventure, mystery and crime. Usual supernatural themes.

Timeline: Pre-series for Supernatural, during the 'Stanford Years' (Sam is away), would fit into season one/two era for NCIS, as Kate is still alive.

The story is mine, the shows are not.

I never have any money, so no one in their right mind would sue me.

* * *

**PART FIVE**

_Never apologize- it's a sign of weakness._

_-The Duke (John Wayne)_

**

* * *

**

It was late when Gibbs pulled up outside Mary Sabene's house, but she was by no means asleep, even if she was in her PJ's when she answered the door. Her PJ's covered with the logo of the Stay Puft Marshmallow man.

Shifting on his feet for a moment before entering the warm house at Mary's gesture, Gibbs noted that for someone who'd been attacked only days before, she looked quite...relaxed.

"So Agent Gibbs, come to run off another gigolo I might have hidden away somewhere or just decided you felt like hot chocolate?" Mary quipped as she turned on her electric kettle.

"Actually I came here hoping you could tell me what you know about Dean," Gibbs said, sitting on the same chair at the kitchen table Dean had been in.

Mary's head turned casually, eyebrow piqued. "Oh? Is he in any trouble, Agent Gibbs?" Mary asked, her tone making it evident he better not be.

"Nope, actually I've asked him to help me with this case and its more...unusual aspects."

"Then why the impromptu visit late at night? Surely Dean can tell you anything you want to know," Mary pointed out.

**

* * *

**

Close to two hours and one hell of an earful of scolding later, Gibbs emerged from the Sabene residence with most of himself intact. He never thought someone would be able to make him feel so small who wasn't his own mother. Not even any of his wives had been able to make him feel quite like that.

After his long talk with Mary Sabene, Gibbs had gone to NCIS Headquarters, having the night deskman/watchman sign him in and read what McGee had found out about Dean Winchester and his past. The information was sketchy despite McGee's talents in research, showing the criss-crossing paths across the country Winchester's family had taken, a patchwork of school reports and short term lease agreements often cancelled before their date had come to term.

It showed the two occasions Dean had been cause for official reprimand and the four times his father had been reprimanded for speeding. Reading through the younger man's numerous school reports, Gibbs noticed how almost every teacher Dean had had was either in the opinion that he was a rebellious idiot or a boy who could go far if only he 'put in the effort'. Apparently when Dean had submitted assignments, they were of top quality, but his lack of commitment to his schooling weighed his obvious intelligence down to an average pass rate, causing him to be overlooked time and again.

McGee had managed to pull up the younger brother's records as well, which spoke a truly different story. His reports painted him as a studious, friendly yet quiet child, always top of his class and apparently a teacher's favorite.

Apparently he'd done so well, despite the constant moving, that he'd earned a full scholarship to Stanford University, and was currently in pre-law there.

John Winchester was another story again. A former Marine with the USMC, Expert Rifle Badge, Purple Heart, Bronze Star and Vietnam Service medal to his name. After leaving the marines, he was partner in a garage, worked as a mechanic. Statements from fellow former marines paint him as a stand-up guy, though more recent tales show he left a lot behind after the tragic death of his wife, packing up his boys and hitting the road.

Adding up the dates, Gibbs realized the boys had to have been very young, the youngest not a year old, Dean about four. _Old enough to remember, not young enough to forget._ Gibbs felt a pang of sympathy for the small family.

Despite the wandering habits, the eldest Winchester seemed to have done a good job, if Dean and Sam were anything to go by as far as Gibbs was concerned. Just continuing living was something to admire. He was well aware of the fact death could eat a man up inside.

Finishing reading the files, Gibbs was pleased with the job McGee had done, and packed them up. Time to head back.

**

* * *

**

Pulling into his driveway, Gibbs entered his house to find Tony standing in the kitchen holding a mug of steaming coffee, from the smell. Glancing through to the couch, he noticed Winchester was gone.

"DiNozzo, where's Winchester?" Gibbs asked curiously, knowing he couldn't be good enough to leave, not that DiNozzo would risk his wrath and let him even if he'd tried.

"I put him up in the spare bedroom Boss," he said, chuckling, "Kid fell asleep again while we were having coffee. Well, more like passed out after a while. I had to practically carry the kid."

"How is he?" Gibbs asked quietly, "I was thinking of taking him to Ducky tomorrow to get him fixed up."

Tony nodded in understanding. "I managed to get his ribs wrapped okay, made him take the pills you left before he went back to bed," he answered, "But Boss, you should have a look at him-he's got more scars than I have. The kid looks like he's been to hell and back."

Gibbs nodded, absorbing the information, adding it to his growing repertoire of Winchester's chequered life. A visit to Ducky was definitely in order then.

"We'll deal with that later," he answered almost dismissively, having other things he wanted to talk about for the moment. The best thing they could do for Dean until morning (real morning, not just long after midnight) was to let him get some rest.

"He asked where you were," Tony stated, looking at his Boss, "when he woke up."

Taking it for the question it was, Gibbs walked over to the coffee pot, which was still fresh and hot and poured himself a mug. Sitting down at the table. He gestured for DiNozzo to do the same.

After he informed Tony about what he'd learnt on Winchester and his life from his late-night (well, early morning) visit to the NCIS headquarters and McGee's findings, Gibbs relayed what he'd spoken to Mary about.

Occasionally Tony interrupted with questions, but he listened carefully, refilling Gibbs' coffee as it was needed. The revelation that Dean had lost his mother so young struck a chord with DiNozzo.

"So she thinks he's legit?" the younger man asked after Gibbs had finally finished sharing what he'd learned.

"She says she knows he is."

Tony quirked a brow at his leader. "And what do you think?" he asked.

Gibbs sighed, scrubbed his face. "I'd have to agree. I mean, hell, DiNozzo, he waltzed right up to you and Kate- came with you to HQ. Kid's got guts. He's not stupid by far, no matter how much he acts like you with the charmer lady's-man act. If he wanted to leave he could've, so there's no reason he should - would- stick around unless he's legit but-."

"The whole supernatural thing? Ghouls and ghosts and goblins?" Tony said knowingly. As much as his Boss trusted his gut on things, it was a big leap from there to accepting that real evil existed.

Nodding, Gibbs said, "It just doesn't make sense-."

"Actually it's the only thing that'll make sense when you look more closely," a quiet voice said from the darkened hall.

Tony started slightly, head whipping round in the direction of the voice in surprise. The fact that neither man had noticed his approach spoke of his skill, even when injured. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the younger man inquisitively.

Enjoying but ignoring the fact he'd managed even in his state to sneak up on the pair, Dean made his way slowly over to the table, sitting carefully across from both Gibbs and DiNozzo, making a triangle so he could watch both of them. "You talked to Mary?" he asked tiredly, rubbing his face.

"You should be in bed, we can talk in the morning," Gibbs instructed, quiet but firm.

Shaking his head slightly and thanking whoever the hell had packed up the drums in his head for leaving, Dean replied, "Couldn't sleep now anyway. Feel better though," he added with a quick grin, knowing if the older man wished so he could probably overpower him and force him to go to bed. In reality he did feel a lot better than he had before, but he was still aching, his ribs letting themselves be known.

Gibbs and Tony simultaneously raised an eyebrow at the younger man, each recognizing the stoic reply for what it was. Deciding for the moment to pass on the facts of the matter, Gibbs conceded.

"Okay. Yeah, I talked to Ms Sabene. She sure thinks a lot of you, considering how long she's known you," the older man commented. If he'd read the woman right, and he usually did, she wasn't someone who made decisions about people lightly but she was adamant that Dean was 'a good boy, though one hell of a flirt'.

Dean shrugging slightly, smirking, "What can I say? I make an impression," he said. "And Mary's one fine lady."

"She said I should believe you. Even told me what she knew," Gibbs said, watching as Dean's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly, unsure.

"Yeah?" He asked noncommittally.

"Yeah."

Tony watched as the two men came to a stalemate.

"Boss, I'm gonna hit the rack," the younger agent stated, casting a quick look to Dean before settling back on his Boss' eyes.

Gibbs nodded in understanding and got up, rinsing the mugs, "See you at work DiNozzo," he said by way of farewell.

Dean rolled his eyes as he watched Tony leave, taking the hint. After Gibbs told him to use the spare room, Dean managed to get out to his baby and check her out, surreptitiously checking to make sure no one had opened the trunk before heading back inside and going to bed. Again.

**

* * *

**

Morning came far too quickly in Gibbs' opinion. It wasn't that he wasn't used to going to work on too few hours of sleep, but he thought the young man in his spare room could probably use the extra rest, even if it was only a light sleep.

_Kid's too much like a marine_, Gibbs thought as he walked down the hall to find Dean already seated, the alluring scent of good, strong coffee curling its fingers, beckoning. _How the hell did he manage to get up and make coffee without me noticing?_

"I made it when you were in the shower," the younger man said, eyes on the papers in front of him. His file. "You did a pretty good job on getting all this together so fast, though it's missing a few things," he commented casually, taking another hot slurp of the beverage encased almost lovingly by his right hand, left occupied flipping pages lazily.

For a moment Gibbs wondered if he'd spoken his thought aloud and not realized it, beyond thinking someone who barely knew him could read him so easily. Pushing the thought away for further observation at a more prudent time, he turned his attention to the coffee, grabbing a mug before seating himself across from one Dean Winchester, who hadn't raised his eyes once, glued to the papers before him.

"Yeah? Like what?" Gibbs asked, taking the opening the younger man had given him. Finally, finally, he might just get some damn answers, not some half-truth wish-wash story.

"Like the hospital reports from Pittsburgh. And Baltimore."

Or not.

_Damn kid._

Dean grinned, knowing what the older man had been hoping for. Truth was, he wasn't nervous. Winchesters did not do nervous. More...unsure. Yeah, unsure about letting this man, this marine, this Federal Agent in on his family's biggest secret. The fact that once his Dad found out, because there was no if, he was gonna be skinned alive, played a big part in his indecision. It went against almost everything that'd been drilled into him since he was four, five years old. We do what we do, and we shut up about it. The family edict. And he was about to give it all away. For what? He didn't know.

All he had to do to find out was take the plunge. Trust someone. Several someone's.

_Damn, I'm really channeling Sammy's emo shit._

**

* * *

**

Caitlin Todd was becoming impatient. Eager to learn more about Dean Winchester, she had come into work early, even by Gibbs' standards, and was now consequently sitting, on her own, at her desk tapping her nails impatiently as she perused, once again, the young man's file, trying to get a profile on him.

But for all that she tried, she simply couldn't.

There were too many variables. Every time she thought she had him nailed, understood him, she'd find yet another anomaly to disprove whatever she'd been thinking. After the combined hours of yesterday and this morning's thinking, she was still no closer on figuring him out.

Finally, after forty-five minutes of being on her own, the doors opened to reveal a slightly sleep-ruffled-looking Tony. Or was that just how he did his hair? Who knows?

"DiNozzo," Kate greeted as her partner flopped boneless into his chair.

"Kate," Tony greeted. "Gibbs call you in this early? He's not here already is he?" the agent asked, looking around.

"No, just came in early to re-read the Winchester file... It just doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't?" McGee asked as he came through the elevator doors, entering the bullpen. Looking around he added, "Gibbs isn't here yet?" and getting a shake of the head in reply.

"Actually, Gibbs is here," came a voice from the recently vacated elevator. Abby. "He's down with Ducky in Autopsy. Dean's with him too. He looks better today," Abby noted with a smile. She was worried he'd look worse. _Trust Bossman to take care of it,_ she thought happily.

"Really?" the trio asked simultaneously.

Abby nodded, pigtails bouncing with the action. "Yup, and he wants all three of you down there now. That's why I came up, to get you guys," she added.

Kate looked pumped, like she finally had something to do, Tony looked curious and McGee, well, Tim looked nervous, as usual.

The four of them made their way to the elevator, taking it down to Ducky's domain, each of them momentarily lost in their thoughts.

**

* * *

**

Entering autopsy, the group was confronted with the unusual sight of someone actually listening to Ducky's stories. Most people either tuned out or interrupted the elder doctor's regaling of past exploits, but for his part Dean seemed genuinely interested in what the older man was saying, only interrupting to ask more questions or clarify a point.

Gibbs, as usual, didn't seem surprised at all.

Kate and McGee stared unabashedly _(for different reasons … well, at least mostly. Kate was also horrified by the tracks of bruises and injury)_ at the young man seated on one of the examination tables, stripped all the way down to his boxer shorts _(plain black silk)._ Mouths opened slightly in shock as they took in the numerous cuts and abrasions, not to mention the downright shocking array of sunset bruises over laying a background of older, more faded ones. The whole picture was rather disturbing.

"So you just walked right in?" Dean asked incredulously, eyeing the older man.

"Of course," Ducky stated with a grin.

Dean burst out laughing, only to be cut short by the pain that sprung up from his now neatly wrapped ribs, "Ohh oh, ow, damn."

"Dear boy, you shouldn't be laughing with those ribs of yours," Dr. Mallard scolded gently as the young man coughed once or twice before straightening back up.

"Well then you shouldn't have made me laugh," Dean mock-scolded back, grin still plastered on his face.

His general distrust and unease towards doctors didn't extend to the older Medical Examiner, and he'd caved to Gibbs' order once the older agent had informed him a friend, namely Ducky, would be doing the examining, all off record and not within sight of a hospital.

"I do apologize then, my boy. Now, let's see if we can't manage to get you dressed. I think a button-up shirt will do nicely; I don't want you overusing those arms of yours and pulling on your ribs. They need time and rest to heal and I don't want to see you back down here because you went off and pulled some shenanigan, understand?" Ducky said seriously, eyes peering over his lowered glasses to properly convey the seriousness of the matter.

Dean nodded, grinning. "So no Edinburgh expeditions then?" he asked, smirking just a little.

The older man laughed and nodded, "Exactly, dear boy, none of that at all."

Dean sighed, continuing the show a little longer. "Ahh well, and here I was thinking I could get you to show me the ropes," he said, putting on his most dramatic, disappointed face.

Ducky laughed and patted his shoulder softly. "I think we're done for now. Jethro seems to be getting a tad impatient. Perhaps we can continue our earlier discussion some other time Dean?" Ducky suggested before turning back to the rest of the group, who had been standing or sitting somewhat silently in almost-awe as they watched the interaction between the Medical Examiner and his young patient.

Tony took the silence following Ducky's statement as his signal to ask questions. "So what are we all doing down here, Boss?" he asked, turning to Gibbs.

"We're here to discuss this case..."

**

* * *

**

**NOTES: **Comments, thoughts, constructive criticisms. It lets me know where I'm going right or wrong. I know there are a few spoilers here and there for an episode or two of both shows, but I don't see them as so significant to warrant a warning.


	6. Chapter 6

**WAY TO KILL**

_An NCIS/ Supernatural Crossover fic_

Warnings: No romantic relationships will be found in this fic. Plenty of hurt/comfort, friendship, family and team bonding. Contains traces of angst, adventure, mystery and crime. Usual supernatural themes.

Timeline: Pre-series for Supernatural, during the 'Stanford Years' (Sam is away), would fit into season one/two era for NCIS, as Kate is still alive.

The story is mine, the shows are not.

I never have any money, so no one in their right mind would sue me.

* * *

**PART SIX**

…_It ain't easy… living free…_

* * *

After a long and sort-of congruous meeting, Dean was feeling like he'd been run over by a truck again. _Friggin' goblins,_ he thought.

'_Exhaustion can play tricks on you my boy. One moment you're on top of the world and think you're fine, but it will surely sneak up on you at the least expected moment,' _Ducky had said to him earlier that morning as he'd dabbed salve and ointment onto cuts and bruises.

He knew from the look in Gibbs' eyes he'd be neck deep soon enough in 'work', but he also didn't want to disappoint Ducky, particularly since the older man had been nice enough _(wise enough)_ not to ask too many questions Dean didn't want to answer while he carefully patched him up as best as possible in his gentle, caring manner.

* * *

Gibbs watched Dean carefully throughout the exchange as he presented what he had discovered on the case and answered questions from all sides when it came to revealing the highly unusual nature of his work. Gibbs had been surprised when no one suggested they drop the youngest of them at a mental hospital when he started discussing goblins, ghouls and whatever the hell a _wendigo_ was. The logical Kate had 'informed' Dean that before she truly believed Dean's story she wanted proof that supernatural things existed. Dean had simply shrugged, told Gibbs if he wanted he could probably find a spirit or poltergeist close enough.

McGee, surprisingly hadn't blinked an eye when Dean had started talking, though he did spout some interesting facts on 'cultures around the world' and their beliefs in supernatural entities. Other than that he'd simply watched Dean carefully throughout the 'meeting', as though he was studying some new program.

Abby, predictably, was bouncing up and down in her excitement after informing Dean she _totally_ _believed him_ and peppering him with questions on all sorts of things. He realized then that Dean's first reaction to Abby being Goth was because of _'stupid punk ass college kids thinking they could impress their friends with some black magic'_ as Dean had said. He imagined it would be something like having rookie cops screw over a crime scene with their idiocy.

Tony had stayed silent throughout the whole exchange, not asking a single question, which was bizarre for his senior field agent. He was paying attention throughout the exchange however.

Gibbs watched now as Tony walked over to Dean and started talking to him quietly. McGee and Kate were busy, Abby had returned to her lab and Ducky was in autopsy finishing a report on their last case.

He watched the two younger men as they walked further away, into a little used corner of the bullpen as they lowered their heads slightly toward each other. Tony seemed to be asking questions now, at least. Ducky had warned him to keep an eye on Dean because, _'No matter how he looks, Jethro, that boy's is still suffering from exhaustion. It's like heatstroke, one moment you think you're getting better, but if you push even a little too hard, it hits you like a ton of bricks.'_ So watching carefully was what Gibbs was doing.

He noticed Dean looked a little paler than earlier but from here he couldn't see much of a difference. His posture was maybe a little less rigid, sagging almost imperceptibly. _He's good_, Gibbs thought to himself. He thought back to what he'd read on the boy's father. He'd raised him almost like a marine. As much as he'd been proud to be a marine, it was no way to bring up a child. Photos and mentions he'd found of the small family before the death of Mary Winchester showed a picture-perfect existence, happy smiling Dean held lovingly by his father, smiles on all three faces, the notable bump of Mary's stomach. They looked, well, perfect.

What the hell happened in that fire? Gibbs thought. Whatever set John Winchester off was right from the time of his wife's death. Something happened. Now all Gibbs had to do was find someone who knew what.

* * *

As Gibbs went back over the Winchester case file, he reread the old reports from the Lawrence Police and Fire Departments, who had listed the fire as accidental, blaming faulty wiring. It just didn't sit right. Gibbs mulled the fact over in his mind, letting his intuition guide him. If Winchester's ... change had come about because of his wife's death, it was a fair guess that his fixation on the supernatural had come out of it, meaning he must have found out something else about his wife's death.

Searching through reports for missing links was never one of Gibbs' favorite pastimes, but he did it when necessary and if doing this meant he'd be one step closer to figuring Winchester out, he would do it.

Scanning the contacts list, Gibbs found mention of a Missouri Mosley listed. Apparently Winchester's partner at the garage, Mike Saunders, had been 'concerned' for his friend when the eldest Winchester had taken to visiting the woman, who was apparently the local psychic.

Shuffling the mass of papers around, Gibbs finally located the contact details for Mosley, grabbing his cell.

"This is Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. I'm calling about a-." Gibbs got no further before a strong, yet undeniably feminine voice interrupted him, scolding him like a mother does her three year old who'd been caught with his hands in the cookie jar and crumbs on his face.

"Young man, don't you give me that nonsense."

* * *

Tony had listened quietly as Dean told the team about the supernatural side of life, giving specific examples and answering all of Abby's enthusiastic questions.

Though he kept track of the conversation around him, mentally he was sifting through his memory, searching for something that hovered on the edge of recall. Finally, he recognized what had called to him. He hadn't connected anything like _this_ with _that_ case, but as he went back over Dean's explanation of certain 'hunts' he'd been on, information and facts clicked together.

One of the last cases he'd worked on in Baltimore had been a supposed serial killer case, but the victims had nothing in common aside from the killer's M.O. Suddenly one day, the killings stopped and didn't continue for the weeks after they were still working it, and because they had no new leads on the killer or his or her whereabouts, the case had been passed off and he'd been reassigned to the case that would later lead him to working here, for Gibbs.

He hadn't forgotten the case, but with time it had been shuffled to the back of his mind as one of his failures. They'd never gotten close to a lead, because any of the victim's friends and family hadn't been able to agree on anything suspicious happening, CCTV footage never showed anyone unfamiliar hanging around the apartments in the days, or even weeks, before any of the victim's deaths and none of them had had any known enemies. In short, there'd been no reason for any of the seven young people who'd been murdered to die. The killer had been nicknamed the Zodiac killer, after the way he'd chosen each victim of a different, successive zodiac sign.

After the group had broken up and everyone seemed suitably occupied, Tony pulled Dean aside. He wasn't sure what he was hoping for, but what he got was better than he could've imagined.

* * *

"Baltimore? Yeah, been there a few times, like I said, why, what's up DiNozzo?" Dean asked, eyeing the older man curiously. He'd noticed Tony hadn't said a thing all the time he'd been talking to everyone about his, well, job, and had initially chalked it up to the fact maybe DiNozzo didn't believe him after all. It'd be a disappointment, and hard to work around, but it wasn't as if anyone much had believed him before unless they'd been directly involved in a hunt, usually as a victim, and even then, most of those folk decided denial and ignorance was a wonderful way to live life. Now he wasn't quite sure what was up, with DiNozzo seemingly coming out of the blue and asking about a hunt in Baltimore.

Dean listened carefully as DiNozzo laid out the case facts, details on victims and the killer's M.O. Long before he'd finished, Dean recognized what had happened, remembered the hunt, surprised DiNozzo had made the connection with the scarce amount of details he'd used when describing the hunt.

"You were one of the cops on that case, weren't you? Man I can't believe I didn't recognize you. Yeah, man, that was one of our 'cases'."

"What the hell was it?"

"Took us a while to figure out, actually. I mean normally, the ... things we come across, they're either out for a specific target or they're opportunistic, like the wendigos and stuff. But that thing, its victims were specific, targeted. We hadn't come across anything like that before. First time I'd ever faced up with a shape shifter," Dean answered, recalling the hunt in vivid detail.

He and his father, along with Bobby, had taken on the hunt while Sam had stayed with an old marine buddy of John's for school. Took them three weeks and two more victims before they'd figured out what was killing the people.

"Shape shifter?" DiNozzo asked, snapping Dean out of his impromptu reverie.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, turns out the bastard was being 'artistic', choosing victims from the zodiac, though you'd already know that," Dean stated, waiting for the nod of confirmation. "That's what threw us for a loop at first. There'd been cases of shape shifters before, but none that had developed a particular way of choosing victims. Most were opportunistic, choosing well to do victims and skipping town before any hunter caught up with them. This guy stuck around, mimicked a serial killer. He was hunter smart, too, the way he'd covered his tracks. We almost didn't get him."

"But you did?" Tony asked, needing to know for sure, needing the verbal confirmation.

"Yeah," Dean said, grinning grimly, mouth tight, "We got the bastard. Filled him with silver. Only sorry we didn't get it sooner," Dean said, somewhat regretfully, remembering the young woman who'd been the shifter's last victim. He knew you could never save everyone, but it didn't mean that it didn't hurt each time he couldn't.

"Wasn't your fault," Tony murmured, seeing his own guilt mirrored in the younger man's eyes.

Dean looked back at him, eyes much older than they should have been for one so young. "Wasn't yours either."

* * *

With the help of NCIS' considerable resources, Dean, with, surprisingly, Tony, McGee, Kate and Abby's help, it took considerably less time to find a hunt nearby. Before they'd started research, Dean had explained how to spot inconsistencies in news reports, how to link death notices with recent killings in the same area. Essentially, he had taught the NCIS team how to recognize a hunt from a normal case. He knew his dad would kick his ass from here to Toronto if he found out what he was doing, how much he was telling these guys, and he knew he was taking a huge risk in doing so, not just for him, personally, but for everyone he knew. Even so, he felt it was a risk he had to take, if they wanted to solve this case… hunt… whatever you wanted to call it.

"So this is what, exactly?" Kate asked as she looked at the big plasma screen in Abby's lab before her, which held various snippets of articles.

"This, ladies and gentlemen, appears to be a classic poltergeist," Dean announced. He'd spent the late morning and afternoon with the team, teaching them, answering their questions and doing the loathed research. He'd never admit it, but it was wearing him down. One night's rest wasn't enough to combat weeks of tiring work with the goblin hunt, or his tussle early on with this one. Ducky had told him to take it easy, but Dean had downplayed how he'd felt, a decision he was beginning to regret. And now he'd be taking not just one, but probably five, hell, maybe six amateurs on a hunt.

Abby bounced up and down. "I'm so excited! So we bust into this old guy's place and burn his bones?" she asked excitedly.

"Not his bones, Abs, something he was attached to," Tim corrected, always one for particulars.

"Right," Abby agreed, nodding firmly.

Gibbs chose that moment to walk into the room.

"Gibbs! We found our first hunt!" Abby exclaimed.

"Slow down, Abby."

"Sorry, Bossman."

Calmly, well, for Abby, the young forensic technician recapped what they'd done with their time, explaining the features of how to identify and research a hunt as well as some particulars she'd found particularly fascinating. Every now and then, one of the other team members would interrupt with more information, but finally Abby concluded with an ecstatic, "And now we have our very first hunt!"

Gibbs listened carefully, if somewhat impatiently, to Abby tell him about researching death notices and news reports to find 'hunts'. He noticed how Dean's system ran almost parallel to theirs, except that the tells of a case were different, the work more particular in some ways. While they could rely on science to fill in the gaps, Dean had to rely on hard work and intuition, and, at times, trial and error, though technology made some parts a little easier. He couldn't imagine what it would've been like decades ago.

"Let's get to it then. Winchester, what do we need to know?" Gibbs asked, sharp blue eyes coming to rest on their youngest 'member', showing deference to the young man, giving him the lead in his area of expertise.

"First thing would be to stay behind me at all times," Dean said firmly, his tone deadly serious. It didn't matter he was on their turf. Hunt protocol was there for a reason and amateurs and newbies needed to know their place. Turning to Gibbs, he said, "I know you all have training of some form, but even your marine experience isn't much on a hunt. Half the time you can't even see what you're hunting until it's on top of you; the rest of the time it's almost always faster than you and definitely a hell of a lot stronger. Normal bullets won't do any good and neither will almost any combat training you've had. Spirits don't play fair."

He waited for a moment while Gibbs and his team soaked in the information. All present were surprised at the young man's professionalism and serious tone. They recognized that it was no longer time for jokes in the hallway. Even Kate, who'd wanted proof before she fully believed him was listening carefully to Dean.

Gone was the kid who'd joked with them about movies and cars and teased Kate and McGee. This was Dean Winchester, Hunter, in action. Just seeing the young man act in such a way allayed many of the remaining doubts or skepticism any member of the NCIS team had.

"If I'm gonna take you on a hunt, even a run of the mill haunting like this, you need to do what I say. If you can't take orders from me, you won't be in on the hunt. I'm not gonna get one of you killed because you think you can handle it," Dean said firmly.

He waited patiently as each team member gave some sign of their agreement of his terms so far before continuing. "Secondly, there's no point in taking your weapons with you. Leave them in the car. They won't do any good with a poltergeist and the most you'll do is get someone shot, most likely me."

"So what do we use, then?" Tony asked. The idea of going in unarmed didn't appeal to him.

Finally, Dean grinned, just like that his professional manner released with a smile that lit the room. "That I can help you with," he answered. "But not here."

Tony had seen that kind of look before, when he was a cop working undercover. "Not on Federal grounds you mean?" he asked with a reciprocating grin of his own.

"Exactly."

* * *

"So when are you gonna let us see what's in your mysterious trunk?" Abby asked with a sly grin in Tony and Dean's direction as the group were gathered around the evidence table a little while after Dean's 'talk'. Gibbs had gone off _(probably to get more coffee),_ leaving the rest of the team to talk.

Said agent chose that moment to stride in his usual nonchalant manner, a slight smile on his face, telltale coffee cup in his hand. "No one's seeing anyone's trunk until after we finish our work," he scolded, grinning at Abby. "DiNozzo, McGee, Todd, back to your desks, Winchester, you're with me. Abby, I want that-."

"List of evidence and my report, gotcha Bossman," Abby finished easily, a bright smile lighting her face.

Gibbs mock glared at the spunky forensic scientist before turning to Ducky, "Duck, I need you to check Winchester again."

"Certainly Jethro. Come along, young man," Ducky said, ushering a shocked Dean in the direction of his 'office'.

"What? No! I'm fine, seriously-."

"You'll _seriously_ get your butt in Ducky's room or it'll be in a sling before you can say another word, Winchester," Gibbs warned, eyeing the young man.

Dean glared at Gibbs giving him orders but moved forward all the same.

Gibbs soon left Dean absorbed in another of Ducky's epic tales, heading for his team. They still needed to go over their current case, no matter what Dean had planned for them in his 'hunt'. And Winchester couldn't be present, even if he was being entirely straight with them. He may tolerate, hell, even like the kid, but he wasn't ready to jeopardize the case or his team's reputation just yet.

Dean would only be fully in on his team when he had solid proof he was telling the truth. You couldn't take hunches and instinct to court, or the Director, after all, and he only had so long before he had to solidify his deal with Winchester, even is was flying under the radar more than usual. He'd promised the director he'd both fully vouch for the young man, and have him instated the same way they did with certain civilians and informants with the OSP in L.A, or he'd end up having to have him under watch 24/7 as a suspect.

His gut hoped for the former, having taken a shine to the young man. Thankfully, the director hadn't felt the need to ask for specifics when he'd gone up to his office, knowing Gibbs' way didn't always match up to procedure.

He had a feeling 'professional hunter of ghosts and monsters' wouldn't fit into any of their 'expert consultant' or 'trusted informant' categories.

* * *

**NOTES:** Your reviews are always welcomed with open arms and an appreciation for the time it takes you to drop a line. So, thank you. It please me greatly to see all the little messages, and I always try to reply to them all. Don't forget to put your guess to where the title 'Way To Kill' comes from. There's a one shot in it for you!


	7. Chapter 7

**WAY TO KILL**

_An NCIS/ Supernatural Crossover fic_

Warnings: No romantic relationships will be found in this fic. Plenty of hurt/comfort, friendship, family and team bonding. Contains traces of angst, adventure, mystery and crime. Usual supernatural themes.

Timeline: Pre-series for Supernatural, during the 'Stanford Years' (Sam is away), would fit into season one/two era for NCIS, as Kate is still alive.

The story is mine, the shows are not.

I never have any money, so no one in their right mind would sue me.

* * *

**PART SEVEN**

_Not our houses but our brains are haunted.  
~G.M. Beard, 1879_

* * *

"Where are we?" Gibbs asked as he strode in from the elevator.

"We've got transcripts of all the interviews the feebs did with each victim's family. The most recent victim-not Sabene, but a _Mrs. June Robertson-_says in the interview notes that the agent thought maybe the kid had seen something, but he couldn't be sure. He refused to talk to any of them so they couldn't go any further," Kate had said in her usual succinct manner.

"Right, arrange an interview for-."

"Mr. Robertson and his kid, done. Earliest I could get was tomorrow, considering," Kate replied.

Gibbs turned to McGee.

"Abby's got all the evidence the feds had and is currently still going through it. It looks pretty standard-no unknown prints, and all that were found were ones that were, ah, supposed to be there-Mr. and Mrs. Robertson, their son, Michael and a few family friends, all accounted for. No unknown D.N.A found either," McGee recited.

"Right, well, keep at it. No one goes anywhere until our _normal_ work is done."

"Yes Boss."

* * *

_Three hours later..._

"Finally!" Tony shouted out, pumping his fists as they left the NCIS building, "I have been waiting forever for this!"

Kate rolled her eyes at her partner's childlike joy, "We waited three hours, Tony, not forever," she told him.

"You sure?" Tony asked, grin still lighting his face, "Sure seemed like forever, though that coulda just been the company, y'know," he added with a smirk.

"Ha ha, how very witty of you."

"I thought so."

"Now now, boys and girls, perhaps we could move this along a little faster?" Ducky asked, intervening before the bickering got any further.

"Yeah!" Abby agreed enthusiastically. "I can't wait to see what Dean's got. I wonder if he's met any vampires?" she pondered.

Eventually, they made their way to where Gibbs and Winchester were waiting, standing by their respective cars.

"Who goes with who?" Kate asked, eyeing the cars. "And who's driving?"

"It isn't obvious?" Tony asked, teasing Kate. "Gibbs and Dean are driving," he answered, practically bouncing up and down in his excitement.

"Shotgun, going with Deano," Abby piped up, running to stand with the young man.

"Me too!" Tony shouted, running over to Abby and Dean.

Kate scoffed, "And winner of the most childish goes to..."

"Well, Caitlin, m'dear, I take it you'll be coming with Jethro and I?" Ducky questioned. "That only leaves McGee," he noted, and all eyes turned to the younger man.

"Well, McGee, who're you going with?" Tony asked, eyes slight with mischief. McGee turned nervous eyes from Dean's car to Gibbs. He wanted to go in the Impala, but he didn't know what to do.

"McGee's with me, aren't you, geek boy?" Dean prompted, stepping forward and looping his arm around the agent's shoulders, stifling the wince that wanted to arise from the move.

"Uhh, ahh - umm-."

Gibbs quirked an eyebrow at Dean's statement. He knew from Tony's look he'd been enjoying the probie's discomfort, hell, he had too, but it seemed Dean had some sympathy for him.

"Get a move on, McGee," Gibbs said sternly.

"Yes sir," McGee stuttered, quickly hopping over to Dean's side, flashing a grateful glance his way. He'd wanted to go with Dean but wasn't sure how Gibbs would take it-not that he ever looked like he cared, but he liked this job and still being a 'probie' he didn't want to screw anything up, which always made him nervous.

Even degrees at both MIT and John Hopkins don't prepare you for his job at NCIS, or a boss like Gibbs.

Pretty soon all members of the team (and Dean) were seated in the two cars and on their way to a location Dean had chosen but refused to enlighten them with.

* * *

"A park? You chose a park -_a public park_- to show us your trunk?" Gibbs asked.

Dean grinned. Even Tony was looking at him like he'd lost his marbles. "If you want to hide, where do you go?" he asked suddenly, facing the rest of the group.

"Who are you asking?" Abby asked.

"All of you. Where would you go, if you didn't want to be noticed?"

"To ground. Somewhere deserted."

Dean shook his head at Kate's suggestion. "You sure you worked for the secret service?" he asked, ignoring her indignant look in lieu of looking at Gibbs, while Tony flashed a triumphant grin her way. After all the digs he'd gotten when he acted like a 'school boy', he figured it was well deserved.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Try thinking like a cop. Someone's parked somewhere remote, isolated from the public eye. What's the first thing you think of?"

"Drugs" Tony spouts out, a grin crossing his face.

"Yahtzee! Give the man a donut" Dean says, echoing the grin on the older man's face. "So, you ready to see what's in my baby's trunk yet or what?"

* * *

Dean grinned to himself as he turned his back on the group. He'd been waiting for this moment. _Man are they gonna freak,_ he thought to himself. _Tony'll probably like it,_ he thought as he opened the trunk.

"A duffle bag. You brought us all the way out here to see whatever's in the duffle bag?" Kate asked, scoffing.

"Well sweet thing, if you wanna see my extensive wardrobe," Dean drawled, "I'm sure I could arrange that, but no. Don't assume so much, Secret Service Lady. Ready boys and girls?" he asked, eyeing the motley crew surrounding him.

Gibbs made an impatient gesture and told him to get a move on.

"Ruin the suspense, why don't you?" he grumbled, fingers deftly finding the hidden latch and lifting the fake bottom up, propping it casually with the sawed-off.

"Oh. My. God," Kate stated.

"You carry this around in your trunk all the time Winchester?" Gibbs. Always the practical one.

"Aren't you worried about cops finding all this?" McGee asked.

"You have machetes in here!" Abby exclaimed, then started eyeing all the mojo bags and the holy water. "Can I?" she asks excitedly, pointing to the contents.

Tony, meanwhile, was staring, gob smacked at everything before him like a kid in an oversized candy store. Kate looks slightly horrified at the amount of weaponry one can 'innocently' hide in the false bottom of one's trunk.

"Man, you really have a desert eagle?" Tony asks, reaching slightly for the weapon before looking to the younger man in askance.

Dean grins, "Told ya you'd like it."

"Well I certainly see why you wouldn't risk being on government grounds when you unveil this, Dean my boy," Ducky commented with a grin. "Quite the James Bond assortment, isn't it?"

"More Van Helsing than James Bond, Ducky," Abby corrected.

"Quite right my dear, of course. Did you know many believed Van Helsing must have been a fallen angel?" Ducky asked. "Yes, they thought for him to have such power in fighting evil, he must have been one of God's warriors come to earth. In fact, Caitlin, you'd be interested to hear that he was rumored to have been working directly for the Vatican."

"But I thought fallen angels were evil?" Tony asked, confused.

"They are," Kate interjected. "Lucifer was an angel til he fell, so why would Van Helsing, if he was a fallen angel too, fight evil?" she asked. This was turning into quiet the debate. Now that they'd all been told evil creatures existed, the group was, as always, trying to figure it all out.

"Redemption," Dean put in, gazing at the group. "If you believe in that crap," he said, shrugging and turning back to the weaponry Abby was ogling, showing her the mechanisms and explaining the mojo bags.

"Wait a minute, you say you fight evil, but you don't believe in God? In good?" Kate asked, eyes wide and turned to Dean's back, waiting.

Dean turned around with a sigh. "I do fight evil. I kill every evil son of a bitch I can. And don't confuse God with good. I've seen evil, come face to stinking face with it, but I have never, never seen any proof of God or angels or miracles, so no. You show me something. Solid, undeniable proof. Until then, you believe whatever you want to believe and I'll keep doing what I do best."

"You have an alarmingly logical outlook on things for someone who deals with the supernatural, Dean," Ducky noted. He had to admit, he couldn't find fault with Dean's reasoning. The boy was quite intriguing. He was obviously intelligent, that much was apparent but, like their Tony, he often hid behind jokes and masks.

"You ever seen something you couldn't explain, Ducky?" Dean asked, handing Tony the desert eagle he'd been admiring before turning to face the older man front on.

"Oh yes, dear boy, many times. That's why I have very little problem in believing your tales. Why, when I was working with the Mandau tribe in Africa, they had a shaman there who worked wonders, quite literally. I was a young man at the time, of course, and no doubt somewhat impressionable, but still I knew there was more than medicine at work there. Of course, it all went terribly awry when..."

Gibbs tuned Ducky's story out and watched his team interact with the younger man. Tony, of course, was staring at the trunk's contents practically drooling.

Gibbs had to admit, though, the kid an impressive armory, all of it carefully stowed away in its own place and, from what he could tell, each piece was immaculately cleaned.

The set-up also meant things were easy to find and access at a moment's notice. A soldier's precision. No, Gibbs thought, a hunter's. For that, he reasoned, was what Dean was. Whatever circumstances had led the boy to this… life, he was a natural, Gibbs could sense that, even without seeing him 'in action', even when he clearly wasn't at the top of his game, and that said something.

The stealthy way of moving spoke of experience he shouldn't have at his age, the careful way he scanned constantly, always being alert for danger, yet to those who didn't scrutinize his actions carefully, he appeared relaxed.

It was similar to a soldier, but more...natural. He lacked the stiffness of repeated training drills, learnt actions, a soldier had.

He moved closer to the trio who had now surrounded the trunk, stepping into the midst next to Abby, who was busy admiring the bottles of holy water and the stakes.

"Oh! Gibbs! Have you seen this?" the Goth exclaimed, eyes dancing with excitement. "It's holy water," she informed him, waving the glass flask about his face in her eagerness.

"And this?" Gibbs asked, fingering a small green pouch emitting a rather pungent scent.

"Oh! Well, as near I can figure, it's fairy dust," she said happily.

"Fairy dust?" Kate and Gibbs asked simultaneously.

Abby nodded, "Yeah, you, know, for protection and-."

"There's no such thing as fairies," Kate said obstinately.

"Careful there, Katie. Every time you say that, another fairy dies," Tony warned with a glimmer of humor in his eyes.

"She's right, though," Dean said, interrupting as he and Ducky turned to the group.

Two faces turned incredulously to the younger man, about to speak before he pointed to the bag Gibbs held. "That is fairy dust. It's a mix of herbs and crap, for protective circles. Takes a while to set up, but it's strong when it is. Most of the stuff in it's used for cleansing and banishing, too," he added.

Kate breathed out a laugh. "Damn, for a minute there I thought you were going to tell me fairies were real."

Dean grinned at the older woman, knowing the look on her face would be great, "Oh they are. That's just not made by fairies."

Kate sputtered while Tony, Abby and McGee burst out laughing, "Wha-What?"

* * *

Eventually Dean had shown them all, while keeping an eye out for any nosy park attendees, most of his 'small' armory, explaining most of the mojo bags and informing them all of what each weapon was used for or against. Which things would protect them, etc.

Finally it was time to leave. McGee and Abby had agreed to set up 'tech support' for the team for that night's hunt, and the pair, along with Ducky, would not be going. Abby and McGee would wait with Ducky at Gibbs's house _(by far the biggest, and without the hassle of entering apartment blocks or, in Ducky's case, dealing with his mother.)_ for the team to come back from their first 'hunt' as Dean called it _(that would take some getting used to, if they ever did get used to it),_ watching from the camera feeds they were setting up now, back at headquarters.

Gibbs, Tony and Kate were busy being briefed by Dean on hunt protocol, rules, dangers and the like.

Tony was thriving on the 'fun' as he put it, spouting out random facts on movies he thought the hunt would be like, Dean adding his parts here and there, bantering with the older man.

Kate had to admit that Dean was the epitome of professionalism whilst he instructed the trio, going over each detail carefully, making sure they all knew what he required of them, what to do. It wasn't hard to believe all this 'hunting' was real with the way he acted. He wasn't some punk kid out for fun. This was his job, his business, day in, day out. And he took it seriously. Gibbs-level serious.

She wondered aloud how many hunts he'd been on, how long he'd been hunting. Surprisingly, he answered.

"Wouldn't know how many hunts exactly, but I've been hunting since I was seven, officially, solo hunting since I was thirteen, though mostly Dad'd only let me do your basic salt and burn on my own, and he was probably watching for most of 'em."

The trio was silent for a long moment as they took this in.

"Seven?" Gibbs asked. It made sense, he thought, at the level of professionalism Dean could exude he'd been doing all this since childhood, but it was still amazing, and, when he thought about it as a father, slightly heartbreaking. As a soldier himself he'd seen child soldiers during his overseas tours enough to know how real it was, but this, this was different. This was at home, not in some war torn back water part of the world.

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, so?" he answered. Wasn't a big deal. And him taking solo hunts earlier meant Sammy wouldn't have to. He'd always tried to give his little brother whatever he could, and since hunting wasn't his 'thing' and he'd just wanted to be normal, Dean didn't see what letting him off a few would hurt. Then again, he also hadn't really expected Sam to take off at the first viable chance, even if he was proud as hell the kid had gotten a full ride to Stanford.

"Man, I was being dressed up like a sailor at seven and you got to hunt monsters?" Tony exclaimed.

Kate, meanwhile, just stood there, eyes locked on the younger man.

"So, you've been killing these..._things_, since you were _seven years old_?" she asked, slightly disbelievingly.

Dean smirked at the older woman, though his eyes hardened a little. "Yeah. Look, if you're having such a hard time, maybe you should pull out. I don't need some amateur getting killed because they don't really believe me and can't be bothered to follow the rules on a hunt," he said, eyeing the woman. _Man she was as on-again-off-again as a Hollywood star's marriage status._ One minute he thought she believed him, the next she'd pull back like it was too weird, and he was like a crazy person after the president.

"_Oh no you don't._ I believe you. _I do_," Kate stressed at the three men's doubtful looks, "It's just hard to imagine, I mean, I was raised-."

"You were raised to believe in hell, weren't you? The devil?" Dean asked, pointing to the silver cross the woman was wearing.

Kate nodded. "But I never took them literally, I mean they were just-."

"_Start_ taking them literally. Demons exist. Evil exists. Now are you going to be able to follow me on this or not? No problem staying with Abby and McGeek if you can't. Hell, most grown men I've come across, when they learn all this is real, they either run like hell or pretend nothing ever happened," Dean said in a softer tone.

"I'm in," Kate said firmly. No way was she going to run before she even found out for herself. Afterwards, well, we'll see, but she'd stick this through. _After all, there was no way she was going to let Tony show her up._

Dean grinned. "Then let's do this."

"Alright!" exclaimed Tony excitedly.

* * *

**NOTES:** Reviews are awesome! Thoughts, comments, requests, concrit, all loved with equal fervor.


	8. Chapter 8

**WAY TO KILL**

_An NCIS/ Supernatural Crossover fic_

Warnings: No romantic relationships will be found in this fic. Plenty of hurt/comfort, friendship, family and team bonding. Contains traces of angst, adventure, mystery and crime. Usual supernatural themes.

Timeline: Pre-series for Supernatural, during the 'Stanford Years' (Sam is away), would fit into season one/two era for NCIS, as Kate is still alive.

The story is mine, the shows are not.

I never have any money, so no one in their right mind would sue me.

* * *

**PART EIGHT**

_Crazy doesn't even begin to cover it._

* * *

**NOW**

_Night time, Gibbs' Residence_

For all the terrors the night held, Dean had always had a special love for the perpetual darkness that surrounded one at night, even after all he'd seen and experienced. It held unknown promises in its shadowy grasp, and he could be free in the Indian ink that was the world at night.

It was daylight and 'normal reality' he disliked.

So he found himself yet again lecturing the three agents that were to accompany him on his latest hunt. For all appearances, it was a simple case of salt and burn whatever it was that was keeping the restless spirit in this world, and send it to...well, wherever it was they went.

'Death for spirits' his Dad used to say, though he always assumed it was more for Sammy's benefit as a child than it was what he truly believed. His Dad wasn't like that. At least, _not anymore._

"So, can we go now?" Tony asked, practically bouncing with excitement.

Dean grinned. "Yeah, Abby, Geek boy, we okay?" he asked, making sure the techlink was in working order one last time before they left.

"Loud and clear, Ghost boy," came the lab tech's response, her slightly husky voice full of cheer and excitement and just a tinge of worry.

"Let's roll," Dean announced, heading for the Impala, which he'd insisted they take, and in no way because he didn't want to leave it alone with a curious Abby Sciuto at all. Nope, it was pure logic that made him insist they take his baby with them. Really, it was.

**

* * *

**

They arrived at the hunt's location in less time than they should have legally but really, he dug up _graves, for God's sake, what were speed limits?_ They piled out of the car, the night sky no longer looking clear, but as though a thunderstorm was approaching.

Hopefully, they'd be done by the time it arrived.

Then again, _with his luck?_

Allotting each member of the 'team' with rock salt rounds, holy water and a couple of other little goodies _(was it just him or was Tony getting a little too fond of his Desert Eagle?)_ before reminding them all to stay behind him, and follow his lead. They might be great field agents, but they were sure as hell not hunters, and even a poltergeist could become a huge problem if they didn't listen.

They seemed to have a penchant for throwing him into walls when he tried to 'kill' them. _Go figure._

Climbing the old stairs to the abandoned house _(apparently no matter how pissed ghosts would get at newbies moving in on their territory, they didn't give a crap about letting the place fall down around them),_ Dean signaled the others to wait while he entered the house.

No sooner had he opened the door than an old-fashioned iron came pelting straight for his head. "Oh shit!" the hunter exclaimed as the seemingly innocent household item rattled past him onto the front lawn.

So much for an easy salt and burn.

"What the hell was that?" Kate exclaimed.

"Our house-warming present," Dean wisecracked as he pulled up his sawn-off in readiness of his second attempt at entering the house.

"Is every hunt so friendly?" Tony asked, eyes slightly wide after the flying iron incident.

Dean shrugged. "They don't like it so much when you try to kill 'em." He jumped into the house, running as he entered. The spirit materialized slightly to his left and he raised the firearm and fired smoothly in one go. Yelling to the trio still on the porch, he called, "It's okay. It's gone for the moment if you still wanna come in, but watch your backs."

The trio filed in, Kate wedged between Gibbs and Tony, whether by their maneuvering or hers, no one knew, but the men's protective stances spoke volumes. Dean had no doubt that though none were related by blood, they were family one and the same.

Now everyone was inside, Dean figured it was time to get the job done. Judging from the ghost's greeting, it wasn't gonna go down without a fight, and the less time they spent in the house, the less _(hopefully)_ chance there was of being tossed around like rag dolls in the hands of a psychotic three year old.

"Right, I want you to keep an eye out for anything that could be precious to an old dude," Dean instructed, casting his own eyes around the dismal house.

"Precious?" Kate asked.

"Something worth so much to him he hung around. Woman's locket, a photo, hell, it could be a rocking chair. Whatever."

"Oh."

**

* * *

**

The team searched in steady silence until a god-awful screech was heard and the spirit materialized just short of Kate and Gibbs.

"Get down!" Gibbs shouted.

Gibbs let off a round of rock salt, but it only made the ghost flicker temporarily. "Winchester this shit ain't working!" came the yell and the young hunter, followed by Tony, came barreling through from the kitchen where they'd been rifling through the cupboards and drawers.

"Shit!" Dean yelled as yet another projectile came flying at his head. Thinking quickly, he shouted to the others, "Gibbs, get Kate and yourself outta here, same for you Tony, _out!"_

Gibbs didn't reply, simply pushing Kate towards the door at a run, realizing things were getting out of hand and they'd only be in more danger if they tried to stay. True to form, Kate resisted being pushed, always questioning. "Gibbs? Gibbs, we should help, we-."

"_No_, Agent Todd, we are leaving."

Tony, meanwhile, was torn between following orders _(he wasn't Gibbs 2IC for nothing, after all)_ and staying to give Dean backup.

Dean, however, was busy firing one-armed whilst pulling lighter fluid out of his pocket, injuries and Ducky's warnings be damned. If anyone got hurt here, it'd be on his head.

As Kate and Gibbs made it to the door, it slammed shut, and despite Gibbs and Kate yanking, it didn't budge. "DiNozzo!" Gibbs called. Damn not having a gun with real rounds; rock salt wouldn't shoot the hinges or doorknob off. Unless brute force could conquer it, they were trapped. Not to mention more things seemed to be flying around the room, and this time they weren't being aimed as carefully.

"On it Boss!" DiNozzo yelled, running up to his partner and boss, but even adding his strength to the force, the door didn't move.

"Damnit!" Just then the lights in the house began to flicker and spark wildly, casting shadows and bursts of light sporadically around the rooms. Suddenly, some of the sparks caught alight on the dry furniture, flames catching eagerly, beginning to spread.

"Gibbs! Get a window and get out!" Winchester called over the increasing noise, spotting the flames. _Stupid ass is gonna burn down his own house. Eh, now all I gotta do is salt it._

Gibbs, busy with Kate and DiNozzo ripping the curtains down from the lounge room's big bay windows so it wouldn't catch alight, shouted over his shoulder, "What about you?"

"I'm fine. Get your team out, I'll be done in a bit, just gotta salt and burn this mother, it's a piece o' pie," Dean replied a lot more cockily than he felt. His main concern was getting Gibbs' team out. They didn't need to end up hurt because of him. It had been a dumb idea to take amateurs on a hunt anyway, even an 'easy' one like this. Pssht. Easy. _Right_. _Why did he always catch the crap jobs?_

Gibbs grabbed the shotgun he held and punched it effectively through the window, which was 'jammed' shut. The room was now full of smoke, though the fire hadn't really reached it yet, preferring to conquer other areas first, like, say, the ceiling of the building, which was looking less and less stable. As he finished punching as much glass as possible out, Gibbs lay his jacket over the edge and guided Kate out, who was coughing profusely by now.

Gibbs turned around as soon as Kate was running on the lawn, half bent over coughing. Seeing Tony, he pulled the younger man to him, yelling over the cacophony, "Where's Winchester?"

Tony coughed before answering, "He's in the other room. I think he said something about salting before he pushed me in here. It's bad Boss," the younger agent yelled grimly. He hadn't wanted to leave his young new friend alone, but ultimately he hadn't had a choice. He just hoped he got out really fast. Sending a ghost...wherever, was not worth being burnt to a crisp.

Gibbs nodded before shoving DiNozzo out the window too, "Go. Make sure Kate's alright. I'm gonna drag Winchester's butt outta here and follow you."

Tony grinned. If anyone here could get Dean out, it'd be Gibbs. The second 'b' was for bastard, after all. "Got it, Boss," he yelled, exiting the same way Kate had.

Once he was outside and had cleared his lungs somewhat, he stood with Kate as they observed the house become an inferno. It looked a lot worse now. Tony only hoped that Gibbs got Dean out fast; otherwise things could get a lot worse.

Gibbs ran into the room Tony had indicated Dean was in, a torn portion of his jacket covering his mouth and nose. Glaring through the haze, he spotted the dull red of Dean's jacket, crumpled in a heap on the ground, the young man unconscious beside it. "Damn it, Winchester," Gibbs growled as he ran over to the prone form. "I don't need _another_ DiNozzo."

Hoisting the younger man up in a fireman's grasp, Gibbs hauled ass back to the living room window, pushing the younger man out first, careful to drop him in the spot with the least amount of glass, and following quickly. Picking up his burden once more, Gibbs made his way out onto the lawn.

Normally, he'd have called the fire department, but he knew it wasn't possible this time, which also meant no ambulance for his team, or Dean. Ducky it was. In which case, they needed to get a move on.

Carrying the young man, he trotted over to Tony and Kate, who had recovered mostly from the smoke and joined him as he made his way over to the Impala, casting worried glances to the younger man.

"What happened?"

"No idea, found the kid unconscious on the floor. We need to get to Ducky though, and fast, just in case. DiNozzo, you're driving," Gibbs instructed, single-handedly filching the keys out of Dean's jeans pocket.

Normally, giving Tony the keys to such a sweet car would elicit a yell of joy from the agent, but with all that just happened, there was barely a rushed grin before he unlocked the car and opened the back door for Gibbs to slide in with Dean, Kate taking shotgun.

Tony gunned the engine and roared off away from the background of haze and flame, heading for Gibbs' place, and Ducky.

In the back of the car, Gibbs laid Dean out as carefully as he could in the limited space, in case the young man was injured in a way he couldn't see. There was a gash on his head that cast a bloody trail down his face, plenty of areas where bruises were already forming, the possibility of further damage to his already tender ribs, not to mention the obvious smoke inhalation. But despite the injuries, Dean had still had a hold of his gun when Gibbs found him. Sharing a quiet chuckle with his silent partner, Gibbs wondered if the kid had ever thought of being a marine, or a police officer. He would've been a great one, of that Gibbs was certain.

None too soon the bedraggled, filthy group had arrived at Gibbs' place, the fierce rumble of the classic car's engine alerting the remaining team members of their arrival, three heads popping into sight like a meerkat welcoming committee.

The light grins on the trio's faces turned more grim when they saw the state their team members were in, especially when they gazed at Gibbs, who was cradling a still silent Dean in a bridal position, one that would no doubt cause chagrin if the young man was aware of it.

Ducky, sharp eyes assessing each of the four, quickly assumed control of ushering the group inside, ordering Tony and Kate to wash up and drink some water and rest before getting Gibbs to lay his parcel onto a bed.

Walking to his own room, Jethro lay Dean down onto his neatly made bed, the lights flicking on and signaling Ducky's close presence.

"What happened, Jethro?" Ducky asked as he unpacked items from his seemingly ever-present bag and assessed his young patient.

"It seems ghosts really don't like the idea of saying goodbye," Gibbs answered wryly, glancing from patient to doctor, "He gonna be alright, Duck?" It worried him slightly the younger man hadn't yet woken up.

"Oh yes, Jethro, barring any unforeseen complications, young Dean here should be fine. No doubt that nasty knock to the head is responsible for his lack of consciousness; his body is simply giving itself time to heal. I'll just stitch and clean him up and then we can put him to bed properly. I would like to give him an x-ray for his ribs for cautions sake, though from what I see, he's simply bruised them further. Not that that isn't painful, but it seems that will have to wait to a later moment in time. Now how about you? Caitlin and Anthony obviously have smoke inhalation, as would you, no doubt. Which means washing up, and plenty of water and rest, Jethro," Ducky scolded gently, knowing his friend would likely stay with the young man on the bed after he briefed the rest of the team.

Gibbs grinned ruefully, knowing Ducky would not let up til he got his way. "Got it, Duck. I should go tell Abby and McGee what happened anyway. Doubtless Tony will be filling their heads with some souped-up version, even though Abby should have visual of it from those little camera things she set up," he said, making his way out of the door, leaving Ducky to his patient.

Perusing the young man's injuries before him, Ducky murmured quietly, "Judging from these scars it seems you have a habit of getting into these scrapes, young man. Let's see what we can do about this, eh?"

Personally, Ducky didn't think even Jethro had this many scars, though he had quite a few more years on him than Dean did. He wondered what kind of life it was, living on the fringe of society because of what one did, when it was, ultimately, for all those people who would call him crazy for what he did. No life for someone so young, of that Donald was sure. It was such a pity someone so honorable didn't _(and probably wouldn't ever)_ receive the praise he rightfully deserved. From what he'd seen from Abby's link-up, young Winchester was quite a man.

* * *

Down the hall, Tony, recovered from his smoke-inhalation induced coughing fits, was regaling McGee and Abby with a rather dramatic replay of the night's events.

Abby, who was enjoying Tony's show, sitting next Kate, who rolled her eyes at a particularly exaggerated part of the story, noticed Gibbs and jumped up. "Gibbs! How's Dean? Is he ok?"

"He'll be fine, Abbs, Ducky's just patching him up now," Gibbs replied, "You got footage and sound from that... mess?" he asked, looking at the young lab tech.

Abby nodded, bouncy as always. "Yup, but it's weird, it cuts out more than once through the tape-both sound and screen just go all static. I ran them through a clean-up program, checked them for technical faults- they work fine," the tech defended.

"Except for the static," Gibbs pointed out, thinking. "When does the footage and sound cut out?" he asked, motioning for her to show him.

McGee flicked the screen they'd hooked up on and hit play, Tony, Kate and Gibbs all watched carefully, seeing their expedition from an outside view for the first time. All three noticed that each time the footage _(from Dean's cam)_ cut out when the spirit showed up.

"That's when the old guy turned up," Tony said, pointing at the paused screen just before the first set of static would appear.

"Seriously? Every time?" Abby asked.

"Yup," came Tony's succinct reply. "Hey Boss, you think Dean actually managed to finish that ghost off before we left?" the Senior Agent asked.

Gibbs thought for a moment. Before he could answer, however, Ducky came down and answered for him. "The answer to that, Tony, is yes, young Dean did finish his job."

Kate sighed in relief. Even after knowing Dean for only a short time, she knew if he hadn't, as soon as he was awake and able, he'd head back to that house to complete his task. The younger man was stubborn, that was for sure. She thought he'd even rival Gibbs in that arena, and he was the epitome of stubbornness.

"Good," Abby said in a matter-of-fact tone, nodding firmly. "How is he?"

"Fine," Ducky answered, "But his previous injuries coupled with these new ones, particularly the head injury have simply overloaded the poor boy. He's exhausted, though I daresay he was already rather worn at the edges before he came to us, judging from the look of him and taking into account the various bruises and such over his body. I'd recommend that he remain in bed for at three days but-."

"He won't go for that," Tony and Gibbs finished with a knowing smirk.

"No, which is why I expect us all to keep a firm eye on our young Mr. Winchester, so he doesn't overexert himself. I know, I know, you all have a case to solve, but he won't be able to help you if he's in hospital, will he?" Ducky asked sternly, protective of the young man's health and not just because of the oath he took. The boy really had grown on him. He'd woken briefly while Ducky was tending to him, murmuring soft stories as he worked, and filled Ducky in on the recent event, though the latter part, he'd said was 'blurry' at best, at which Ducky informed him that it was merely a result of the mild concussion he'd received. He'd then let the tired young man drop back into sleep after reassuring him he was safe.

He wished he could do more for the battered young soul that now resided in Gibbs' main bedroom, but knew that pushing would get nowhere but backwards. He's just like Gibbs in that sense, Ducky thought fondly. Hopefully, the similarities between the two would only strengthen the bond he knew was growing, and not strangle it.

Time would tell, as they say.

* * *

**NOTES:** Don't forget top leave your thoughts behind. Additions to alerts and favorites are also awesome (thank you to all who have done so so far!!!).


	9. Chapter 9

**WAY TO KILL**

_An NCIS/ Supernatural Crossover fic_

Warnings: No romantic relationships will be found in this fic. Plenty of hurt/comfort, friendship, family and team bonding. Contains traces of angst, adventure, mystery and crime. Usual supernatural themes.

Timeline: Pre-series for Supernatural, during the 'Stanford Years' (Sam is away), would fit into season one/two era for NCIS, as Kate is still alive.

The story is mine, the shows are not.

I never have any money, so no one in their right mind would sue me.

* * *

**PART NINE**

_Forget the hearse cause I'll never die.._

* * *

Morning came far too soon in most of the team's opinion, accompanied by residual headaches and slow, thudding pain from the bangs and bumps of the escapade.

Tony, who'd crashed at Gibbs' place, was rummaging around the kitchen for the makings of breakfast when his boss came up from the basement.

"Morning Boss," the younger man greeted, not looking up from his search.

"Tony. What are you doing?" the older man greeted and questioned, lifting a brow enquiringly.

"Breakfast," Tony said by way of explanation.

"Ahh."

Thirty minutes later Tony was frying bacon as Gibbs scrambled eggs and the toaster did its thing in time with the coffee percolator's music.

Not long after that, Winchester came down the stairs, yawning as he entered the kitchen. His offer to help was shot down by Gibbs' authoritative voice.

"Sit the hell down before you fall down, Winchester," Gibbs said, ignoring the young man's grumbling in favor of placing breakfast foods onto the table.

Once all three were seated, the usual breakfast conversation started, surprisingly not awkward with the three, who shifted easily between various topics.

Eventually, the dishes were washed and dried at the meal's end, the kitchen tidied once again and all three were dressed and ready.

Which is the moment Dean was informed he would be spending the day either at Gibbs' home or with Abby, and under no circumstances was he to do anything strenuous _(combined orders of Ducky and Gibbs, with Gibbs' force)._

Reluctantly _(meaning he was threatened, coerced and blackmailed),_ he agreed to the conditions. At least with Abby he could 'non-strenuously' research _(shudder)_ his hunt. It was better than nothing. Barely.

Gibbs had banned his other idea. Sightseeing... well, with some... company... in the form of... well, girls. And a bar. It was sad to see a grown man beg.

Not that Dean did. No, he simply tried to... present his case. Yeah, that's it. Not beg. _No siree._

* * *

_Later that day..._

In the lab, Abby was putting the video and audio through various filtering and enhancing programs in hopes it would pick up something. Dean meanwhile was entertaining himself with a farting hippo he'd found tucked away earlier in one of the cabinets. Abby had told Dean that his name was Bert. Heh, he was cool. Weird, but cool. Kinda like Abby.

"Gotcha!" Abby cried two hours later.

"Huh?" Dean asked, snapping awake at the dark haired lady's exclamation, having managed to doze off with Bert. When Ducky had been in earlier, he'd mentioned that with all the rest Dean had managed to get, he'd feel much better. That and the I.V of fluids and nutrients the doctor had forced into him had helped him recover faster from his exhaustion. With Ducky's help, in a few days, Dean would be up to par. _If only he could have a qualified physician along with him on all his hunts. Hell, it'd make things go smoother. And, he'd probably never have to see the inside of a hospital, too._

"C'mon, my ghostly ass-kicker, we've got a presentation to give!"

And with that, the tech dragged the hunter off carrying the video and audio feeds with her.

* * *

_Elsewhere..._

His conjure may have been momentarily defeated by the Hunter, but he had not survived this long in service without knowing to not give up at initial failure. No, he would achieve his goal, and rid the world of the Hunter at the same time.

The shadowed figure smirked evilly as he surveyed his surroundings, eyeing his preparations...

Yes, he would get them. He would win.

_His master would not allow anything less._

**

* * *

**

On Abby and Dean's arrival, whatever the remaining agents and members of Gibbs' team had been talking about was swept under a rug of expectant silence.

Finally, Gibbs' patience wore off and with an impatient 'Well?' and a glare Abby got started.

"Check out what I got from the video and audio feeds from your nightly adventure, Bossman," Abby said, beginning her lecture. "I had to put it through several filtering programs to get it right but when I did, have a look at what I got just before the feed cuts out both audio and visual." the tech said excitedly, directing everyone's attention to the screen.

What the screen showed was a mere flicker of an image, but when stilled it looked as though two or more images were super imposed upon one another. The noise that could be heard might have been mistaken for simple static were it not for the distinct hissing and clicking throughout the small section.

"Damn," Dean muttered after everyone had listened and the 'show' had finished.

"Huh?" McGee put, ever so eloquently.

"For once, I second the Probie. What's up? It's just some random noise," Tony commented, agreeing with his younger teammate.

Abby, however, was curiously eyeing the younger man, eyes flickering to the still silent Kate and Gibbs, wondering what was up.

"Spill, Winchester," Gibbs commanded after moments of quiet. He could see that nerves were beginning to tingle with unease at the concentrated, almost concerned look on the young man's face.

Dean swallowed. It was now or never. They'd had discussions, seen the proof, hell, they'd felt it. They believed him. So why was he worried about telling them this new... insight? Into the case?

Because he knew he couldn't do it alone. And amateur hunters were sometimes worse than none at all.

He was going to need help.

Damnit.

Sighing again, and earning more concerned looks for it, Dean finally answered. "I think it's a witch, a summoner, a shaman," he said slowly, hesitantly.

"What?"

* * *

"Well that isn't as bad as I thought it'd be."

Dean shook his head at the statement, addressing the team, but looking at Gibbs. "You don't get it. Someone who can summon... they're like... nothing you've ever seen," Dean ended uselessly. Damnit, damnit, damnit. In his mind, he was turning over possibilities. Bobby? Caleb? Pastor Jim? His first choice would be Caleb.

Though he'd been John's main weapons supplier for years, Caleb was undeniably closer to Dean. The slightly older man, as rough as he may be, had sensed Dean's need for a friend that wasn't his father's and, once getting to know the younger man, had been more than willing to fill that position.

John was a good guy, but he was also a bastard. Sammy had his independence _(hell, that was clear by his ability to leave)_ but Dean ... Dean was a different story. As independent as he could be, as cock-sure as he was, he was also loyal to his old man, as warped as that turned out to be, and John had been known to use that loyalty, whether consciously or not.

Gibbs watched as emotions flickered over Dean's face rapidly, his mask falling, if only a little. Obviously this was serious. "So what happens, Dean?" Gibbs asked quietly. "Can you beat this thing? Can we?" he asked, unused to the feeling of deferring so much to another, but knowing it was right to. In this, he was the rookie.

Dean shook his head again, forehead creased. "Not on my own, I need help. Hell, any hunter, even ones more experienced than me would." This caught several people's attention.

Kate, however, was the first to voice the question, "Just how many of you ... hunters, are there?" she asked incredulously. Logically she knew there would be more, after all, not all the populace could remain ignorant or complacent about supernatural ... things, but the way the younger man spoke it was like...

"Depends. How many do I know? How many are out there? I've come across a fair few, a lot are Marines-."

"You mean ex-Marines," Kate interjected, earning her a look from both Dean and Gibbs. Simultaneously, they answered, "There are no ex-Marines," before Dean continued, after a flickering grin was directed at the older man.

"Like I said, a lot are Marines, fair few are apparently Padres-I know a few of 'em. Some are normal folk who had something happen to ... enlighten them to the ways of the world," Dean said with a grimace. "Hell, I heard tell there're groups who've been around for decades, even hundreds of years. Rumor has it the Church has a faction of Hunters all its own, though I've never met one who said they were one of 'em. Basically, how many exactly there are, I don't know. I'm not about to go telling everyone who I do know, either. I'll make some calls. McGee," he said, looking into the eyes of the nervous man, "don't trace them. You do and I'm gone. There's no way I'm letting you know about my friends unless they OK it first, even then, I forbid you, forbid you, to try track 'em down afterwards. You do, and you'll wish it was only Hellhounds after you, and not me," Dean threatened finally; making it clear everyone was encompassed in it.

McGee nodded nervously, but in his mind, he was impressed the length Dean was willing to go to to protect his friends. It was like a younger Gibbs, even Tony, or so he thought.

Gibbs nodded at that, appreciating what the kid was saying, making it an official order from him to his team. After that, Dean left the area, searching for some privacy in which to make his calls whilst the team talked.

"How bad is this?" Kate asked as soon as Dean was out of earshot.

Surprisingly it was Tony who answered, looking grim and serious for once, "Bad. Way, way, way bad. I know some of what Dean's done, even though I didn't know it was him when he did it, but he did...well, him and his old man anyway. Any who, that's not the point, Katie, the point is, this is bad," Tony stated firmly, nodding before he continued, "Really bad."

The team eyed DiNozzo for a moment before Gibbs spoke, "Just how do you know what Dean's done before, DiNozzo?" he asked. "I don't recall anything we turned up proving anything for you to know."

Tony shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with all the eyes on him. "I, uh, remembered some cases I worked on, back when, back when I was a detective. Some things Dean said, they rang a bell, y'know, and so I, uh..." he trailed off, waving his hand vaguely, but Gibbs and the others seemed to get what he was saying, to varying degrees.

"You asked him about them. What did he say?" Gibbs prompted, Kate and McGee also nodding, looking concerned his teammate was so disturbed.

"He, uhh, recognized a few of them. Some he'd done, some his, er friends had done. Boss, those cases...I only ever worked homicide, and they're the ones I couldn't solve, no matter what I tried. They were bad, Boss," Tony said to emphasize his point. "And whatever this is, it's worse."

The team, now only consisting of Kate, McGee, Gibbs and Tony, as Abby and Ducky weren't there, having left a while ago to do some more of their work, chatted amongst themselves, Kate, Tony and McGee flinging taunts and insults, making jokes and generally trying to ease the building tension.

Dean had been gone a little over half an hour before he returned, solemn faced and with slumped shoulders.

"Winchester?" Gibbs asked softly, eyeing the younger man. What had happened in one phone call to make such a change? Sure, he'd been tired, but now, well, he looked almost defeated. Something was up.

"Hm? Oh, right. Uhh, Caleb should be here soon, I gave him the address, warned him about...equipment and stuff. As luck would have it, he was nearby when I called," Dean replied absently with a slightly bitter tone in his voice when he mentioned 'luck' before slumping into a chair and speaking not a word more.

Everyone present eyed the younger man concernedly, not sure of what to do or how to approach him. After all, they didn't really know him that well, and they sure as hell had no clue what had happened.

The team sat at their relative desks in silence for a little more than an hour when Gibbs was buzzed from front desk security. Assuming it was Winchester's friend, he took the elevator and left.

A few short, and yet agonizingly long, minutes later a tall, slightly haggard looking man came stalking along with Gibbs, eyes searching, clearly worried and obviously looking for Dean.

"Kid!" The older man exclaimed when he spotted his friend, slumped into a chair.

Ignoring all present, he bent over towards Dean, putting a hand softly on his shoulder, rousing him.

"Caleb," the younger man whispered sadly, no longer able to hold onto his mask, haunted eyes lifting to his friend, and the observers in the group almost gasped aloud at the tears and sadness shining in them.

"I'm sorry, kid. I'm so damned sorry," the older man brokenly replied. He pulled the younger man up and hugged him, ignoring the stiff set to the shoulders, and the reluctance for such a 'chick flick' moment and their normal rules for not having them, at any cost.

Dean closed his eyes, releasing a deep shuddering sigh, leaning against his friend, glad he was there. He wasn't sure what to do otherwise.

Sensing eyes on them, the man known only as Caleb turned, keeping his grip on his younger friend, chick flick rules be damned. "Hi," he greeted softly, noting each member of the team. Gibbs he'd met earlier, but the others he could guess.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Kate who stepped forward first but Tony, eyes sad, "Tony DiNozzo," he returned quietly, looking concernedly at his now ashen-colored young friend.

While Tony and McGee, along with Gibbs spoke with Caleb, Kate took her chance to observe the man. Tall, easily over six feet, he dwarfed everyone present with his height and broad shoulders, but more so with his presence. It was obvious he was older than Dean, but by how much not even she could guess.

Black, slightly spiky almost-long hair, clean-shaven except for a small patch on his chin combined with earrings by way of a sword and fang coupled with sunglasses _(off for now)_ gave him a roguish look. Wearing a black jacket with a white trim over his white muscle tee and black wranglers with the same biker boots Dean wore he looked like he could handle himself.

It was as she was perusing him she noticed he wore a wrist cuff not unlike Abby's, black leather with metal spikes and a ring on his index finger that appeared to be, of all things, steel, making it appear like it wasn't jewelry at all, but something far more...practical.

All in all, he seemed as much of an enigma to figure out as Dean was because his eyes and voice (kind, warm and smooth) contrasted greatly with the ruffian, modern-day pirate look he had going. That is, if a pirate wore biker boots and jeans.

No matter what he did, he was clearly Dean's friend, and the bond that linked the two men was obvious to blind man and fool alike.

Quickly finishing her assessment, she found his eyes once more and put out her hand. "Kate Todd," she said by way of introduction.

"Caleb," he said warmly, shaking her hand firmly and nodding before turning to Gibbs, knowing the lack of last name given would not have gone unnoticed. "If you don't mind, could we go somewhere else? I need to talk to the kid here, but I also need to hear about whatever's going on that he called me for in more detail," the man said quietly, eyes motioning to the surrounding desks, clearly pointing out the lack of real privacy.

Understanding what the younger man was saying, Gibbs nodded. "Sure, lead the way out," he said, extending his arm. He too wanted to know what was going on, but more so with Dean than the case right now, and he could see by the looks in his team's eyes, they wanted to know too.

With that, the team, plus Dean and Caleb, walked to the elevator and left NCIS Headquarters. Entering the parking lot, Caleb spoke, indicating a large jeep painted a deep charcoal gray.

"We can all fit in there," he said, addressing the team, "but Dean gets shotgun," he added, smirking at his younger friend who smiled back tightly. The kid had remained quiet on the trip down, something Caleb knew wasn't really unusual, but concerned him all the same. He had a mouth on him most of the time, but most of the time he was also acting for the audience.

He sighed, wishing he could've greeted his friend's call with better news, but knew he was right to have told him all the same.

Now if only he could really convince himself that, it might just work out.

**

* * *

**

**NOTES:** Thank you to all of you who have taken the time to review thus far- you all rock! Hope you're enjoying the story! Don't forget to put your guess to the title's origin for the chance to have your own one shot! Leave your thoughts, comments and criticisms in a review.


	10. Chapter 10

**WAY TO KILL**

_An NCIS/ Supernatural Crossover fic_

Warnings: No romantic relationships will be found in this fic. Plenty of hurt/comfort, friendship, family and team bonding. Contains traces of angst, adventure, mystery and crime. Usual supernatural themes.

Timeline: Pre-series for Supernatural, during the 'Stanford Years' (Sam is away), would fit into season one/two era for NCIS, as Kate is still alive.

The story is mine, the shows are not.

I never have any money, so no one in their right mind would sue me.

* * *

**PART TEN**

_If you want blood… you got it_

**

* * *

**

Caleb had directed the worried group to a nearby park he'd spotted coming in, having been on the lookout for such a place after he'd given Dean the news.

The choice, however, made some of the team wonder if hunters had a thing for parks.

After pulling up, Caleb guided his friend over to a picnic table and sat him down, the crushed look on his young friend's face making his own stomach tie itself into knots with the guilt, irrationally wishing yet again that he could've saved the Pastor, knowing how close he and Dean had become over the years. The loss for Dean was more than just a friend. Jim Murphy was probably one of the few people Dean felt comfortable enough to drop the masks he always wore with.

"How?" Came the question, hard with anger, but full of grief at the same time. "Got into the church somehow. Didn't have a chance to make it into the Sanctuary. Kid, they… the bastard crucified him."

"What?"

"Demon."

"A demon?" came the horrified whisper. "A demon got into the church a-and... Oh God. I feel sick."

With this the younger man barreled off the bench seat and stumbled drunkenly over to a bush, emptying the contents of his stomach with violent retching, images flashing through his mind.

"Wait, did he just say a demon? Crucified someone? In a church?" McGee whispered furiously. Tony and Kate shared identical horrified looks, Kate wondering how a demon could get onto consecrated ground to do such a thing, shuddering at the thought it could have had human help. And to think, not a week ago she would've laughed at someone if they said demons existed, that is, after calling the psych ward at Bethesda.

They nodded grimly, and those present shared a shudder at the thought.

Their attention turned to Caleb when he spoke once again after he and Dean came back, the latter almost falling back onto the bench seat.

"I'm so sorry, kid, I know how much the Pastor meant to you," Caleb murmured sorrowfully.

"Wait, it was-."

Caleb turned his head quickly, glaring at Kate who'd spoken out loudly. "Yes," he hissed, eyes flashing, "Jim was a Pastor, and a damned good friend," was all he said before turning his full attention to Dean.

He couldn't believe it. Pastor Jim was such a figure of strength. He was strong, but kind. Hell, he'd been a Marine. He was one of the best hunters out there, one who chose the vocation willingly after learning about the supernatural parts of the world. One of the few to do so not out of revenge, anger or grief, but love. He did it because he honestly cared for people, wanted them to be safe. He'd been a huge inspiration to Dean, almost an idol, he'd taught him it wasn't about revenge, didn't have to be about revenge or hatred, that he could do it to help people, to save them.

And now he was dead.

**

* * *

**

Caleb gazed at the heart broken youth before him, who was sandwiched in between himself and Tony. Both men wrapped an arm around the youngest, Tony only hesitating a moment before catching Caleb's slight nod of approval at the gesture, realizing words were not welcome for now, and sat in silence.

Caleb pulled a thermos out, took off the lid and emptied some of the hot water into it before dropping a cloth sachet of what appeared to be mixed herbs into it he'd taken from a jacket pocket, letting it infuse. After a few minutes, the water had cooled and the herbs had mingled with the water, Caleb took the now soaked sachet out and pushed the mug into the youth's hands, urging him quietly to drink, saying it would help. Numb, Dean did so, slowly finishing off the tepid water before placing the mug back down and staring at it.

Slowly but surely, Dean fell asleep; his face still etched in sorrow but losing some of the harshness the sudden news had given it. Caleb made it so he was comfortable; resting against him like a child would with a parent. The older man grimaced at the thought, anger washing over him when John had announced during their short phone call he wouldn't come. Sometimes, I want to rip that bastard's head off for how much he screwed the kid over, Caleb thought, not for the first time regretting he hadn't been in Dean's life sooner. Sammy'd always had his big brother's protection, whether he knew it or not, but Dean...Dean was the go-between, the caretaker, and though he'd never see it like that, the doormat both father and brother trod on to get their way.

His eyes turned colder at the direction his thoughts were taking before he mentally shook himself and addressed the leader of the group.

"So," he started quietly, not wanting to wake Dean until he'd talked with these people, "mind telling me what the kid's been up to and why he's being housed with Feds?"

**

* * *

**

And so begun the explanations. Gibbs detailed how they found out about Dean, and filled the man in on what had happened afterwards, including cataloguing Dean's numerous injuries and the like, making Caleb feel better about drugging the kid, but worse about piling more crap onto him, yet knowing the kid appreciated that at least someone was gunning for him in a good way.

Caleb sighed aloud. Trust the kid to always want to help people. It was a big part of why Caleb, along with others who actually knew Dean, admired the kid. "So that's what it was. No wonder the kid looked tired already, and I just added to it all," he said quietly. "Kid's got the shittiest deal in life I've seen yet," he murmured quietly, looking at his friend. Dean was almost a younger brother to him. After all, someone needed to look after the kid, because it was clear as day he'd never do it himself.

Gibbs took the last statement into consideration before enquiring about Dean. Finally he had someone he could ask about the kid's background.

Caleb contemplated what to say. It seemed the older man truly did care what happened to Dean, and it was obvious the others were also concerned. But on the other hand, he also didn't want to let them know anything Dean wouldn't want them to. How to go about this?

Cautiously, he asked, "How much do you know already?" and proceeded to hear a shortened version of the 'facts' the team had managed to rustle up, knowing he'd have to correct some things at least to give them a better understanding of things. He watched the group as each added in some things, and identified Tony as the one Dean would relate to the most so far, though clearly he'd almost adopted the slightly older McGee as a substitute for Sam.

"Okay, for starters, that house fire...it wasn't natural and it sure as hell wasn't an electrical fault," Caleb said, filling them in about the demon and what he knew from the little John and some others had told him.

After adding some other small but key details into understanding the enigma that was Dean Winchester just a little better, Caleb asked if they had any questions.

"Yeah," Tony said softly, "Who was Pastor Jim to Dean? And what happened, really?"

Caleb sighed, knowing he'd have to answer. "Pastor Jim was...slaughtered by some demon, crucified in his own church. I don't know how they got onto sacred ground like that, but they did. And no, Missy, they didn't have human help, we checked and double-checked. Plus there were traces of sulfur all around. Bastards must have thought it fitting irony that Jim was nailed to the cross. He lived in Minnesota, had a parish there, and one hell of an armament in the basement of his church that could rival any Hunter's home base. Hell, it was home base for a lot of us hunters. Like some other places around, hunters were always welcome. Jim always tried to help as much as he could. He was a damned good guy, and those bastards paid dearly for their little act," the older man growled before sighing again, looking at Dean softly.

"You got it then?" Kate asked quietly, and Caleb nodded.

"Yeah. John left the boys there a fair bit on longer hunts. It was one of the few places the kid was allowed to have some freedom of his own. Almost anywhere else he was always on guard, always 'watching Sammy', looking after the runt of a kid, not that he'd ever mind. One thing this kid loves most is his family," Caleb finished.

"The how come he's on his own now?" Kate asked.

Caleb shifted, looking uncomfortable, and promptly changed the topic. Gibbs noted the man's suppressed anger, but let it slide. It was something he'd ask about later, in private.

**

* * *

**

A while later Caleb had finished answering their questions, and the team, now briefed on many aspects of a hunter's life were getting ready to head back, though Dean was still asleep.

"Any of you know where Dean's staying?" Caleb asked as he hoisted the younger man in question up bridal-style. It was a little awkward but the best way to carry him when he was down for the count.

Gibbs nodded. "With me."

Caleb nodded thoughtfully. "Mind calling it a day then? The sedative I gave him should keep him out for a while, and he looks like he could use it," Caleb said, walking back to the car. McGee had picked up Caleb's bag and Thermos, eyeing the sachet with curiosity. "You know herbology then?" he asked, intrigued.

Caleb nodded. "A bit. So does Dean, for that matter. Healing, sedatives, hunting-related things. It kinda comes with the territory. Can't always get access to supplies without raising too many eyebrows."

"He been trained as a field medic?" Gibbs asked, earning odd glances from his team. _How could he? It's not like he'd been in the forces._

Again, Caleb nodded, surprising the others. "Yeah, he has. Does finer sutures than any doc I've met. Stitched me up more'n a dozen times. Why?"

"Ducky mentioned something about his level of knowledge," Gibbs stated offhandedly, then added, "Ducky's our M.E."

"Ahh." Caleb nodded. "Do you want to go back to HQ now, pick up your cars? Actually, the kid would never forgive me for leaving his baby there, that's for sure," Caleb chuckled. "In fact, he'd pitch a fit."

That statement caused everyone to laugh. They'd all seen how protective Dean was of his 'baby'.

"Better off going back to Headquarters. Abby'll be wondering where we are, Ducky too. You may as well meet them then. Tony?"

"Yeah Boss?" Tony asked, excitement lacing his voice, guessing what was coming.

"You ok to drive Winchester's car to my place?"

"Yeah Boss!"

Kate laughed at Tony, who'd pumped his arm in the air at his exclamation.

"Keys are in the kid's jacket," Caleb said as he arranged Dean in the back seat with Gibbs. He would've put him in the front, but he wouldn't have been able to stop the kid from sliding while he was driving. Well, not safely really, it was easier this way. With Gibbs on one side, and Kate on the other, Dean was sandwiched neatly, his head leaning onto Gibbs' shoulder, McGee in the far back seat behind Gibbs.

Tony had carefully fished out the keys before climbing into shotgun next to Caleb, who gunned the engine and pulled out of the lot.

**

* * *

**

By Caleb's smooth handling of the jeep they quickly made it back to NCIS Headquarters. Abby and Ducky, whom McGee had called and filled them in on what had happened, were waiting out there to meet them, standing in the shade of the building.

Pretty soon everyone was organized, having agreed to meet at Gibbs' place for dinner again. Abby crawled into the car where Dean was slumped, still sleeping _(what was in that tea?)_ and cooed.

"Awww, he looks so cute sleeping," Abby purred quietly, but noticed how he also looked sad. "Is he gonna be ok?" she whispered to Caleb who was standing at the car door. She hadn't had a chance to talk with the man, but she was better than most at reading people, and by far one of, if not the most emotive and empathetic people in the 'team'. She watched the way he glanced at the younger man, the protective stance, and smiled to herself.

Caleb smiled sadly. "Yeah," he answered, silently adding, 'I hope so'. "Kid should be fine."

**

* * *

**

Abby grinned before turning and walking inside to a couch in the living room, making herself comfortable, taking out a book. Gibbs had agreed to stop by apartments and let those who were coming before dinner, namely Abby, grab some things.

Ducky left in his car, having to go home and arrange further care for his elderly mother, and soon McGee, Gibbs and Abby piled back into the jeep, Tony following in the Impala. They made a pit stop at both Abby and Tony's places, letting the pair gather an overnight bag and whatever they'd need. Apparently Gibbs' house was turning into 'camp' for his team. He grumbled a little, but truthfully, he didn't mind a bit.

It was fun having all 'his kids' as Ducky had put it once, in one place. Even if they were the most dysfunctional, unlikely family ever.

He hadn't had that in a long time.

**

* * *

**

Finally they arrived at Gibbs' house, the cars pulling into the drive and the team piling out. Caleb roused Dean gently, waking the younger man up before entering the house together, Gibbs motioning them to the couch.

Tony raised a brow when Dean just leant against the man and closed his eyes again, Caleb shifting to make the move more comfortable for him. "You okay Dean?" he asked softly. "Need me to tape those ribs of yours?"

Dean shook his head, not opening his eyes. "Tony wrapped them for me. Did a good job," he added, smiling in the older man's direction.

Caleb raised a brow at the other man. "High praise indeed," he muttered. "Kid always bitches about mine being too tight or too loose."

Tony questioned Caleb briefly on the herbal mix he'd used, and the effects of it, namely the existence of any side-effects. "There aren't any, really, not like your normal meds. Can't afford to be loopy on a hunt because you're still wound up from something you took the night before. Generally after some good sleep, the sedative part wears off, evening out into a simple relaxant/pain relieving effect."

Gibbs smiled at Tony briefly before turning to Caleb. "Remind me to get some of that stuff would you?" he asked.

"Uh, sure?"

**

* * *

**

Dinner that evening was a rather relaxed atmosphere despite the circumstances with which they were brought together, conversation flowing with ease around the table, as though all present were old friends getting together for a simple meal and a good time. Dean had composed himself once more, his good humor returning, though sadness was still obvious in his eyes.

Gibbs had been worried when Dean had seemingly pushed his grief aside, returning to 'normal' so quickly through dinner, but after a quick chat with Caleb he'd accepted the younger man had a different way with dealing with things and left it at that.

**

* * *

**

Dean stood from where he, McGee, Tony, Abby and Kate had been talking and walked over to the three older men, standing by Caleb when he arrived.

Caleb smirked, turning to Dean with raised brows. "You'll never believe it," he said ambiguously.

Dean raised a brow, used to this game from years of practice. "Oh? Try me," he said, motioning with his hands.

"Gibbs here called Missouri," the older man stated, ruining the 'serious' effect with sniggering.

Dean turned to the older man, "Is that true?" he asked incredulously. Of all the people to contact to check up on him... "She didn't manage to somehow hit you with a wooden spoon through the phone did she?" he asked.

Gibbs laughed a little, shaking his head. "No," he drawled, "but I did get the impression she would. She also said if you kept getting yourself 'all battered up' she'd paddle your behind," the older man smirked.

Dean turned a new shade of red at that. Damn that woman. He loved Missouri dearly, but the psychic was possibly the most trying person he knew outside of his family. And she still managed to scare the crap out of him and treat him like he was five years old.

He'd rarely seen her since John's initial visits to her house, unwilling to step foot near the place that had torn his four-year-old world apart, but she'd visited when he was only a state or two over.

Every time after each visit, he swore he'd never live with a psychic. You couldn't get away with anything.

* * *

**NOTES:** Don't forget, there's a one shot for the first one to guess where 'Way To Kill' (the title of the story) comes from. Please leave thoughts and comments in a review. I always try to reply, and appreciate the time you take to do so.


	11. Chapter 11

**WAY TO KILL**

_ An NCIS/ Supernatural Crossover fic _

**WARNING! WARNING! If you have read this fic prior to 01/01/2010, you may want to go over previous chapters as you may find changes that will be important to you in reading this fic. If you're new to the story, welcome, and I hope you enjoy it!**

Warnings: No romantic relationships will be found in this fic. Plenty of hurt/comfort, friendship, family and team bonding. Contains traces of angst, adventure, mystery and crime. Usual supernatural themes.

Timeline: Pre-series for Supernatural, during the 'Stanford Years' (Sam is away), would fit into season one/two era for NCIS, as Kate is still alive.

The story is mine, the shows are not.

I never have any money, so no one in their right mind would sue me.

**LINEBREAK**

**PART ELEVEN**

_I'm not afraid to die. I just don't wanna be there when it happens_.

**LINEBREAK**

_One week later..._

Dean was restless. No, strike that, he was beyond restless. _Stupid Gibbs, stupid Caleb, Stupid Missouri. Stupid supernatural craptastic evil asshole things. Stupid freaking hunt and stupid friggin' ribs, he thought angrily._

Gibbs and Caleb had ganged up on him the morning after their 'group dinner' and ordered him to bed rest, practically placing him under house arrest until his ribs were better and bruises faded to almost non-existence. Though he couldn't deny the rest, the policy had probably got him up and running faster than his usual 'keep going til you drop' policy would have, it didn't mean he couldn't swear them off in his own mind.

Of course, Missouri had to call his cell and tell him off again as well. Thankfully, though, she'd made the call more than worthwhile, giving information out on his latest hunt, something he appreciated greatly and managed to thank her honestly for.

With help in the way of the psychic's advice and hints, the NCIS team along with Caleb and a housebound Dean had managed to locate the summoner.

He really hated college kids.

_Really._

The descendant of an old-time voodoo practitioner, Hayden _(anyway, wasn't that a chicks name?) _Camiere was all you could want in a dark prince, evil son of a bitch way. Living in what had been his late grandmother's house and currently studying for his masters in ancient societies _(a good way to cover up the acquisition of any weird stuff, Dean thought), _Camiere had decided to 'gain power and prowess' by dabbling into the dark arts.

Taking pieces of knowledge from his grandmother's aged, yellowing books, not to mention several secte rouge texts _(bastardized, of course),_ the twenty seven year old had conjured up a deal with a demon, agreeing to exchange the lives of others for his own advancement. However, unlike most human beings, he truly didn't have a problem with taking the lives of innocent people, in exchange for something as simple as a better grade, or more luck or wealth. He'd signed the contract instantly, not bothering to note the finer details. Like the promise of his soul and the unbreakable link he'd formed between this demonic creature and himself.

In short, Camiere was a first-class idiot.

So the team had spent their time researching, trying to figure out how they could dispose of the demon without killing Hayden, even thought he deserved it, after all the lives he'd carelessly thrown away without a thought.

They couldn't.

For them to kill the summons and banish the demon meant Hayden would die.

Caleb started calling other hunters he knew, after Dean's warning of tracing calls was creatively repeated, coming up with next to nothing. Rumors of hunters who'd defeated anything more than the lower level demons kept turning out to be severely exaggerated thanks to drunken rambling, most petering out to nothing more than the boastful pride of the hunter in question. A couple of leads that could've turned up something dried up when he'd traced the hunter or hunters to their graves, or a missing persons case.

Dean was doing much the same thing, checking through his phone for people he'd met who might be able to point him in the right direction, wishing for what wouldn't be the first time that Jim was around. He'd contemplated calling his father, but decided against it. John had made it clear with his unanswered calls he wasn't available, and Dean didn't care to see if that fact stood even in a situation like this. That was something he didn't think he could take, especially not now.

So Dean did the best thing he could think of in a situation like this: he called Bobby.

The older hunter had more books than could fill a library on the subject of supernatural beings, and was better researched than anyone he knew, aside from maybe Pastor Jim _(damned if that didn't cause his stomach to clench and throat to close)_ and he knew he could count on the older man not to call his father unless it was completely and utterly unavoidable.

Grabbing his cell, the young man punched in the number, not needing to pause to look it up. After a few moments of listening to the phone ring, a voice came through. A smile unknowingly appeared on the young hunter's lips at the gruff voice on the other end. "Hey Bobby, listen, that hunt you gave me? I need some help."

LINEBREAK

Gibbs had wondered when exactly Dean would explode from inactivity _(not the same 'explode' Abby had been thinking of)_, but was surprised when he didn't exactly explode from the lack of physical work or action and the mass of research. No, when Dean came downstairs from the room he'd been staying in, it wasn't to have a go at Gibbs, as the older agent had expected _(he remembered when Tony had been kept inactive from everything for more than a week due to a close shave with a bullet not long after he'd joined NCIS. It'd taken him eight and a half days before he took to Gibbs with words even the former marine was surprised the former detective knew)._ No, Dean came _(almost bounding)_ down the stairs shouting out for his friend, who had refused to leave until Dean did. This had meant Abby was over everyday, as were Tony, McGee and Kate. The only one who hadn't been over quite as much was Ducky, due to his commitment to his mother's care.

"Caleb!! Cae get your ass here!" Dean called out.

"Hold your horses, kiddo, I'm coming!" the older hunter called as he made his way inside from where he'd been sitting out the back after having gone through kata after kata. He hoped Dean's yelling meant he was getting somewhere. From the timeline they'd constructed using the victim's deaths, they didn't have much longer before Camiere would 'sacrifice' another person to help solidify his deal or whatever it was.

Meeting Dean in Agent Gibbs' living room, which had probably seen more traffic in the last six days than it had in the six months previous, Caleb put his hands on the younger hunter's shoulders to calm him. "Kid, slow down and tell me what's up," the dark haired hunter said calmly.

Dean rolled his eyes, grinning a little before he started talking. "Bobby. I called Bobby- figured maybe he could help out a bit and Cae, he figured it out. It's Marchosias, Caleb, that dumbass Camiere made a deal with _Marchosias_!"

Caleb blinked, face blank. _Well, that was a little more anticlimactic than expected_, he thought to himself.

"Care to elaborate, Kid?"

"Marchosias. Bobby says he's a great marquis of hell who commands 30 legions of demons. Marchosias appears as a she-wolf with griffin wings and a serpent's tail, and spit flames. In human form, Marchosias appears as a grand soldier. He obeys exorcists and the domination of angels."

"Hate ta break it to you kid, but you are no angel, neither is anyone else I know." Caleb pointed out.

"Who's an angel?" Called a voice- Tony- from the front door, slamming it shut with his foot after Kate, McGee, Abby and Ducky traipsed in. The team had been pulling day shifts as normal (mostly) while Dean stayed at Gibbs' house, along with Caleb, most days, who figured it for a good base of operations _(that and he was reluctant to leave Gibbs' house at Deans mercy unsupervised. Kid had a mean pranking streak in him when he wanted to)_.

"Hah! Not you, DiNozzo, that's for sure!" Abby crowed as she put her bag of Chinese food onto the low table in the living room, Kate and McGee following her example, while Tony made his way to the kitchen, greeting his boss and dropping his own bundle- two _(very full)_ bags of drinks- soft drink, juice, some beer and chocolate milk _(he still didn't understand how someone so rough looking could have such a weird obsession with the drink ("Better than beer, Agent DiNozzo, better than beer"))._

"Ouch, Abs, that hurts." DiNozzo replied, a mock look of pain on his face complementing the hand held to his heart.

"Winchester, you wanna tell us all what you found out?" Gibbs asked, casting an exasperated glance at the two.

"I called Bobby- he's a friend. Anyway, guy's a walking encyclopedia of weirdness in a redneck disguise. He's awesome. So awesome, he found us our demon." Dean stated proudly, Caleb chuckling at the description of the junkyard owner-come-hunter.

Gibbs waited a moment. When it was clear Dean was going to continue standing there grinning until someone did something, Gibbs whacked the young man over the head, "Well?!" he growled, though not angrily. It was good to see the young hunter looking better- both physically and, he hoped, mentally. The sadness in his eyes had lifted some. Gibbs just hoped he wasn't burying it- he knew what sort of damage that could do.

"Marchosias. The demon we're looking for is Marchosias."

"Well, what'd this _Bobby_ say about this _Marchosias_?" Gibbs asked as he continued to set out the Chinese food and the drinks with some help from the others.

Dean took a breath, seeming to think hard for a few moments before replying, "According to Johann Wier's _Pseudomonarchia Daemonum_, from like, 1583, "_Marchosias is a great marquesse, he sheweth himselfe in the shape of a cruell shee woolfe, with a griphens wings, with a serpents taile, and spetting I cannot tell what out of his mouth. When he is in a man's shape, he is an excellent fighter, he answereth all questions trulie, he is faithfull in all the conjurors businesse, he was of the order of dominations, under him are thirtie legions: he hopeth after 1200 yeares to returne to the seventh throne, but he is deceived in that hope_." According to Bobby, it goes on to tell of how he's one of the 72 demons mentioned in the Lesser Key of Solomon," Dean said, blowing out a breath of relief he'd remembered it all correctly.

Caleb looked thoughtful for a moment, grinning. "So maybe we don't need an angel. You ask Bobby if he thinks we'd do as the exorcists?" Caleb asked, giving a wicked grin.

Dean sobered up a little at that question. "He's not sure. Only records he found were sketchy, real old and he wasn't sure they were a hundred percent about Marchosias. He said it'd be risky- especially with Camiere having bound himself to the evil SOB."

"But not undoable?"

"Yeah, not undoable. He hopes. Said we should try containing Camiere, bind him to something to draw Marchosias out and exorcize him." Dean explained, grabbing a mouthful of the toast Caleb had gotten him, nodding his thanks at his friend as the rest of them ate Chinese, washing it down with some of Caleb's chocolate milk. While staying at Gibbs' place, Dean had decided to take advantage of the chance to get some real food- fresh toast not made by the stack, was one thing he'd come to appreciate. So while the others ate take out, he indulged in home made meals, something Ducky had encouraged greatly, stating some 'real food' would help restore his health. He had to admit, the last week or so at Gibbs' place had probably been the most restful time he'd had in years- as much as he felt guilty to admit it, he didn't have Sammy to worry about, his father to patch up, hunts to organize, spirits to salt and burn. For once he was the one to be taken care of, and as frustrating as he'd found it at times throughout the week, he'd only had to do research and rest. He'd caught up on sleep, eaten real food. In a way, Dean knew he'd be sorry when he'd finished this hunt, knowing he'd have to move on, that he might not get the chance to see these guys again- people he'd met on his own, not through his dad, or because of Sammy. They only knew Dean, not John's boy, or Sam's brother. Just Dean.

"Okay" Caleb acknowledged, "so we put together this exorcism, find ourselves the best binding seal we can, and do this thing."

"Uh, not to break up this little strategy session here, but how are _we_ supposed to wrap up our end of the case? I mean, we can't exactly arrest this demon, and we don't have any hard evidence against this Camiere guy in regards to the people he sent that, that-

"Conjure"

"Right, that _conjure_ after. We can't let him loose, though, I mean, what's to stop him from doing it again once you guys get rid of this demon?" Tony asked, eyes serious, earning nods of agreement from the rest of the team.

Dean smiled a hard, dangerous smile. "I thought of a way to fix up your end, too."

"Man, we gotta meet this Bobby guy. If he gives you all the answers in a phone call, maybe he has an answer for paperwork" Tony joked.

The sound of Gibbs' hand against DiNozzo's head rang out.

"Sorry Boss"

**NOTES:** Don't forget, first reviewer who gives the right answer to where the title comes from gets a one shot of their choice. Thought, comments, constructive criticism is welcome, as always. I love to read them, and always try to reply.


	12. Chapter 12

WAY TO KILL

_An NCIS/ Supernatural Crossover fic_

* * *

Warnings: No romantic relationships will be found in this fic. Plenty of hurt/comfort, friendship, family and team bonding. Contains traces of angst, adventure, mystery and crime. Usual supernatural themes.

* * *

Timeline: Pre-series for Supernatural, during the 'Stanford Years' (Sam is away), would fit into season one/two era for NCIS, as Kate is still alive.

The story is mine, the shows are not.

A/N: Kate is still on the team and alive in this fic, be warned.

A/N: Apologies for the massive silent period. I would love to say that I'd been kidnapped, had escaped and found myself being sheltered by luddite monks in the high, high mountains of Tibet in a secret monastery where chickens were forbidden from entering under pain of death (or expulsion) but that would lying.

* * *

Onwards!

* * *

PART TWELVE

* * *

'In my experience, if something seems too good to be true, it's best to shoot it just in case'

-'Fi', Burn Notice

* * *

Caleb and Dean practically sequestered themselves in Gibbs' living area, wandering out onto the porch when phone calls needed to be made more discretely.

Gibbs had been growing more and more irate, logically knowing that he was the probie [as much as it irked him] in this case just as much as his team was, he hated being left on the sidelines like this. It reminded him too much of the 'need to know' crap the FBI often pulled with NCIS, despite being a sister agency.

Finally, Dean and Caleb updated the team by phone while they were at NCIS headquarters, informing them they'd found the right exorcism ritual thanks to this mysterious Bobby and would only need help in locating the right places to pick up 'supplies'.

After much deliberation it was decided that whatever preparations could wait until the NCIS team finished their work, which was surprisingly earlier than usual given that this was their main case, and they had only needed to catch up on filing reports and such ('probably because we'll be stuck here right through the weekend trying to write this one up' Kate had grumbled).

So it was that at almost four in the afternoon on a weekday the whole MCR team found themselves piling into cars to meet to 'total fringe society guys' (Abby's words) to buy whatever the hell it was they need to exorcise a demon.

Un-freaking-believable, as Tony had put it (though he may have used more excitement than Gibbs was willing to use in this situation).

* * *

Dean had appreciated having a hunt this complicated to work on after Caleb's bad news. The loss of Jim Murphy made his heart ache even more. The man had been his childhood hero after his dad, and one of the few people he truly let his guard down around. He was also the only person he'd told about how he felt after Sam left and the massive argument his brother and father had tried to drag him into and he'd tried to end that caused such a rift in their family unit.

When he stopped, during those brief respites where his mind took over and left the hunt behind, Dean honestly didn't know where he'd go after this case. He didn't think he could handle going back to hunting with his dad. Not for a while at least.

Despite him saying nothing, Dean knew Caleb's first call after talking to him would have been to John, and he knew that John would have refused to come, regardless of whether he was busy or not, which just made Dean feel more lost than ever.

No Sammy, no Dad and now no Pastor Jim.

Pushing back his feelings (and cursing his chick flick moments), Dean leaned over the table and continued to go through the 'theory' for this exorcism.

Bobby had also come up with a solution to the NCIS team's problem with having no one to arrest.

Apparently, when Marchosias crawled out of whatever depth of hell he came from, he didn't possess some poor bastard like most demons- no, he created his own form, which is why he had been reported to be able to change it- because he truly could.

Bobby had managed to find a ritual that would ensure the demon's created body would be left behind.

* * *

_...Some time ago..._

'That ass' ego wouldn't let him _not_ check out his progress kid, he'll have left his mark on all the victims and crime scenes. Check with those feds of yours about unknown fingerprints and residues. If he really hasn't been topside in this long, odds are he won't be giving a damn about _discretion_ beyond what he already has. My bet is, when you ice this damned thing, they'll be peachy-pie and able to tie him to every one of those victims' Bobby had said on one of their last phone calls.

* * *

Dean and Caleb were waiting for the four NCIS agents and Abby and Ducky to arrive, leaning against Caleb's car as hey kept an eye, having decided to park on a side street just near a shopping district with hopefully everything they'd need for the ritual (and after) in a relatively short distance.

"You ready for this kid?" Caleb asked Dean, watching the younger man next to him carefully. With the days of actual rest he'd managed as well as the good ole feeding up the NCIS crew had been making sure he'd received, Dean looked a hell of a lot better than he had when Caleb first arrived. Ducky had also confirmed he was well on them mend- the ribs would be tender and restrictive for a while yet, but as long as they were kept wrapped and treated with enough care, he'd been 'cautiously optimistic' about the young man's health.

Originally, the lack of fight Dean had given about resting when he was told had concerned Caleb a great deal, knowing it was unlike the younger man to give in that easily (unless he planned to renege on his deal as soon as no one was watching him), but after he'd seen the aging layers of bruises on his chest and back, Caleb understood.

Clearly the hunt he'd been on before Bobby had landed him with this mother had been tough enough, and he obviously hadn't really rested in between. Apparently he had the forces of Gibbs' team, Abby, Ducky and a lady called Mary along with Dean's better-than-usual healing speed to thank for his friend recovering as well as he had. He knew most people wouldn't be so up and able this soon, especially not when they had loss and grief to deal with too.

Really, he was just glad Dean hadn't gone all 'revenge' on him, It had been a worry for him, even though he knew that Dean wasn't really like that. It was his nature to protect, not hurt, and Jim had been as good as family to Dean for a long time, and one of the best influences on him, Caleb thought.

* * *

"Wake up, old man, they're here" Dean said, whacking Caleb in the chest at the same time, nodding to where a group was headed towards them, the dark clad, dark make up of Abby signalling their identity as she took the lead, running in her platform boots to greet the pair.

"Oh my god, this will be so fun- I mean not really fun, because it's serious and kinda sad and really creepy but fun as in this is the first time I've ever gone shopping in these places for real- I mean, I've been here before obviously, otherwise how would I know where to go? I mean I could've just googled but I didn't, because I'd already been here but-

Abby's mile a minute tirade was paused by Tony placing his finger over her lips, silencing her immediately, having come up behind her. "We get it, Abbs" he said fondly, a grin lighting his face suddenly.

"DiNozzo if the next words outta your mouth are 'this reminds me of a movie' I will shoot you myself" Gibbs growled, hand raised.

"Not a peep, Boss" Tony replied, grinning still.

"Don't even think 'em"

"Too late"

* * *

A/N: Reviews are loved


	13. Chapter 13

**Way to Kill**

An NCIS/Supernatural Crossover fanfic.

* * *

Disclaimer: Not intended for money making, copyright breaking, or world domination purposes.

Notes: Kate's still alive, Palmer's the ME Assistant... Sam's away at Stanford... etc etc.

* * *

**Part 13.**

_Duct tape, paper clips and chewing gum. Anything else: unnecessary._

* * *

Four hours.

It had taken four god-damn hours to finish shopping.

Oh, not because they weren't sure exactly what to get, or because the items and ingredients they needed were rare or hard to find.

But because Abby Sciuto,eccentric that she is, had to ask questions about _every freakin' thing in every freakin' shop_. He'd never known there were so many occult stores, and he was pretty sure he never wanted to step foot in one again. He'd even heard DiNozzo if there was a way to psychologically un-see something, which had gotten a chuckle out of the older man.

They managed to get everything they needed- some things, they had been required to go to more than one store, not because they couldn't get it there, but because there wasn't enough.

Vaguely Dean wondered how the place was going to smell, and if it would be anything like that time their dad had taken them to a park camping and the guy in a tent site over from them had been using weed, but burning hay to 'disguise' the smell.

One thing he knew for sure: he was so glad he wouldn't need to be part of the clean up crew. For once, they could pin the mess some obscure ritual required on someone else. DiNozzo grumbled about making them stay to help with the evidence until Kate pointed out that it would be a 'gross breach of protocol' and if Dean didn't wipe the smug look on his face off _right now,_ she would.

* * *

"Deeeaaaan. I said I was sorry!"

When Abby's latest plea was met with another glower and an increase in walking speed, the gothic woman humphed and kept walking alongside Gibbs and Tony, both of whom, along with Kate and everyone except Dean were smiling slightly.

Finally, someone who didn't cave to Abby's puppy eyes.

Granted, Ducky thought, young Abigail had put the poor fellow through his paces, asking questions incessantly, much akin to a small child at the 'why' stage. Ah well, they were finished their 'shopping mission' now, and Ducky was looking forward to this whole case being over and done with- he only hoped this 'Bobby's' idea that the corporeal body of Marchosias would indeed have left trace evidence they could match to each crime scene, and that the body itself would remain once the demon was dealt with.

If it didn't... Well, he shuddered to think of the paperwork. Or Gibbs' attitude when he would be forced to leave a case somewhat open.

Yes, Ducky was well and truly looking forward to the end of this case, though he would be sad to see Dean go. Such an entertaining young man, despite his troubling life and inclination towards reckless actions. He had enough reckless men in his circle of friends to look out for and lecture, after all.

* * *

Caleb and Dean spent the night checking that the agents knew what to do, and cleaning, sharpening and priming all their weapons. Of course, Caleb also had to memorise the exorcism. Normally, he would be more than keen to let Dean (or any other hunter) deal with that part, but with Dean's voice still not being totally clear, with being slightly sick still, the two men had decided they didn't want to take any risks in taking this demon down for good (or at least a few more millenia in Hell, cursing their existence).

"You ready?"

Caleb looked up at the younger man's question, to find everyone (well, the NCIS agents, at any rate) standing around in Gibbs' living room, each holding their own backpack, which he knew contained everything any of them would need. Ducky, Abby and Palmer had not been involved in the evening's prep, as they needed to be able to be called into work after Gibbs and the team apprehended the 'criminal' after a hot lead came in that night.

Or, you know, whatever they thought of once Dean and Caleb's part of the case-hunt was over and done with.

Caleb was so glad he wasn't having to stick around for the paperwork.

Grinning, he answered his young friend.

"Let's do this"

* * *

Sitting in a car, waiting for someone else to finish his job had never been Gibbs' idea of a good plan. However, he recognised the risk that demanding to be actively involved in this part of the case (or hunt, as Caleb and Dean called their 'jobs') would be even worse. He'd seen first hand, during the poltergeist-ghost-whatever deal, the kind of consequences that could (and would) face Dean and Caleb if they were there.

Didn't mean he had to like it.

So here he sat, cooped up in a car with his team, each of them with their sigs and backpacks (filled with spare clips, holy water and a herbal bag each... and M&M's in DiNozzo's case) at the ready for their part.

"DiNozzo, stop it"

"Stop what?"

"You know what, cut the crap Tony!"

Kate's indignant growl, mixed with Tony's amused come backs soon filled the car.

"Giiiibs!"

Briefly, the former marine wondered if this was what it was like to be a knidgergarten teacher.

If it was, he'd shoot himself in the foot with his own gun before he became one.

"Both of you! Shut the hell up, sit there quietly, or so help me, you'll be filing the whole team's reports for the next two months! And DiNozzo- stop throwing M&M's in Todd's hair. The next one that lands anywhere but your mouth will be the last!"

Silence.

Gibbs sipped at his thermo-cup of coffee.

_This,_ is how stakeouts and observation and (if he had to) waiting should be.

Quiet.

* * *

They'd been sitting in the car for three hours when Gibbs' phone went off, an exhausted sounding Dean on the other end.

"Uh, you can come in now" the younger man stated gruffly, noises in the background implying that things maybe hadn't gone quite as easy as they'd hoped.

"You might wanna tell Ducky to bring some of those crime scene booties"

Gibbs sighed. Unlike DiNozzo, he couldnt' tell if Winchester was serious or not. And there had been a lot of messy crap bought that afternoon. Well, he'd leave it to the kid to wave in Duck, then. For all that the young hunter was obviously a bit of a joker, he'd seen the way he talked to Ducky, and knew he wouldn't be able to bring himself to pull a sly one on him.

"Alright, Winchester, start packing up"

Signalling to the two in the car with him, and telling Kate to dial McGee to bring the NCIS evidence truck around, he stepped out of the sedan.

* * *

The scene that awaited the NCIS team in the Camiere's house (well, his _grandmother's_ house) was nothing like Kate had ever seen. Camiere was there in the living room, tied to a chair, which is where he'd apparently been since the beginning of the ritual- almost four hours ago, now. Caleb was leaning up against the wall, looking around him as if he wasn't in the middle of a very weird (and totally creepy) crime scene.

Chicken blood _(apparently not a cliché)_ was sitting in six bowls (pewter in make) that were evenly spaced around a white circle, which now contained the body- _no, 'vessel'_, according to the older hunter, Kate thought to herself, of Marchosias.

A demon.

_From Hell._

And the two men in front of her had disposed of it with chicken blood, crime scene chalk, and kitchen herbs.

Oh, and magic words.

Okay, so maybe Kate _wasn't _as ready to have her faith tested as she thought.

She may even need to call her sister in a professional manner after she sorted through all this in her head.

* * *

McGee looked like a mix between pale and excited as he gazed around the crime scene. Ok, the creepy dead guy who looked a little familiar wasn't great, neither was the young-ish man (Camiere) that Dean and/or Caleb had apparently tied to the chair and then duct taped his mouth shut (which, judging from the glares they were getting was probably a good idea) but everything else... Well, for once, he agreed with Tony- it really was like a scene from a movie.

Awesome.

* * *

After Gibbs and Kate (who looked kinda pale, Dean thought) had taken his official statement (Caleb didn't need to give one, as he wasn't technically involved, which he was rather happy about), Dean waited around picking up the last of their things from the ritual. It had been a tiring, gruelling experience- in reality, the ritual wasn't overly complicated, and the exorcism wasn't as long as the standard ones, even, but it seemed to wear on the two men more than any other hunt they'd been involved with. Dean blamed the fact that the body Marchosias had created was totally creeping him out.

No one should look like that, not even a fake-demon made human body thing. He was kinda glad it didn't just disappear into demon-smoke or dust or something, though.

It made leaving the hunt- and the NCIS team's case reports- a lot easier to sort out and deal with.

Between ex-demon-body and Camiere (the stupid, stupid idiot, who knew some very interesting if not disturbing and possibly physically impossible suggestions), they would probably find it quite easy to wrap up.

Caleb and he had done the heavy lifting, after all.

And damn it, after this, he was taking his baby, finding somewhere out of the way with a good bed and crashing.

* * *

Caleb saw his friend rub at his eyes tiredly. he knew that everything would catch up with him after the rush that a hunt always brought ended, and he wanted to at least see him safely somewhere, if the kid wouldn't come back to his place for a while.

Especially since he knew no one, save maybe Bobby (who was busy organising Jim's affairs, a sad and sorry thing that it was, as he'd been a good hunter, but an even better friend, and a damn good priest to his parish) would be checking on him anytime soon.

* * *

Gibbs looked around him as DiNozzo happy-snapped, raising the morbid feel of the room with his quips and movie references, as was his manner, and couldn't find himself to be annoyed at his SIC's behaviour. Kate was standing in the doorway, evidence bag hanging limply in her hand, pale in the fluorescent light, swallowing as she took in the scene, one that really _did _look like it was out of a movie. He sighed (something, he noticed, that he'd been doing more often, ever since this case had been dumped on them). At least one good thing came out of it- he'd be able to rub their success in Tobias' face, as NCIS once again solved a case the FBI couldn't.

"So"

Gibbs looked up at the younger man who'd just broken the relative quiet of the crime scene.

"So" he replied, steady blue eyes locking with tired green ones.

"What do you want me to do?"

"You two packed up everything you touched?"

"Yeah."

"Then I want you to take it, put it in Caleb's car, and wait outside for Ducky. You can leave once he arrives. I'll call you if we need another statement" Gibbs stated firmly.

Dean looked worried for a moment, then nodded, following Caleb (who finally pushed himself off the wall and picked up the two black duffels at his feet) outside, calling over his shoulder"I really wouldn't recommend taking the duct tape off. That dude has one serious case of potty mouth. His grandmother would be ashamed!" and with a short laugh, the younger man pushed the partially open front door aside, following his friend outside in the cool night air. Gibbs briefly wondered if or how long it would be before he heard from the young man again. He'd pulled him aside before they left for the ritual, quietly letting him know his door was open, should he need it, and though the younger man's green eyes had looked a little wary of the offer, grattitude had also been clear in the (so not) slightly choked voice.

Not for the first time, Gibbs had wondered if he'd like or hate the boy's father, should they ever meet. there was no doubt the kid had been trained well, sure, but he wasn't sure that he liked the glimpses of the fathering side he'd seen in the kid were something he could accept.

* * *

Not much later, Ducky's van pulled up outside, the older gentleman grumbling as usual about his assistant's lack of directional skill, as the pair pulled out the body bag on its usual trolley, and headed for the house.

_"Oh my"_

The unseeing eyes of Marchosias' vessel-body stared out blankly as Ducky kneeled down beside the corpse, unable to feel the connection he usually did with the deceased.

"Young Mr Winchester was correct, indeed" the doctor stated, snapping his gloves to ensure they were on correctly, and had no bubbles or wrinkles.

"What about, Duck?" the younger voice of Tony called as he continued photographing the scene.

"He really does look a little like Elvis."

* * *

It was mid morning by the time Gibbs could let his team - and himself- go home. With the evidence collected and logged awaiting Abby's eager examination, the bodies- and Camiere - taken to NCIS headquarters (one to the morgue, the other to interrogation), Dean's statement logged and their preliminary notes for their reports completed, Gibbs felt they deserved a few hours sleep in their own beds.

Of course, they had orders to be back at work later that afternoon, for a couple of hours. But no one ever said he wasn't a bit of a bastard.

Returning to his home, he found a loose piece of notepaper on his kitchen table, with a phone number, different to the one he'd used for Dean during the case, an email address and PO Box number in South Dakota.

"So long, Winchester."

Tucking the note into his pocket, he headed upstairs to catch some sleep.

After all, even he couldn't live on cases, sawdust and bourbon.

* * *

**AN: **Finally.


End file.
